


The Last Gryphon

by Catsafari



Category: Neko no Ongaeshi | The Cat Returns
Genre: F/M, Fairies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-22
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-06-03 19:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 74,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6622504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catsafari/pseuds/Catsafari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There once was a monster, and that monster was slain by a youth, and that youth became king – or so the story goes. But when a young baron finds his beliefs challenged, what monsters will he awaken? “Everything we know about you… is wrong.” AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Night Visitor

_Prologue_

_Once upon a time, the land was filled with fairies. All kinds of fairies. Fairies that pilfered freshly-baked bread, and fairies that tangled hair in the night, and even fairies that stole socks – but only the left ones. There were boggarts and pixies, brownies and elves, and they all resided in the forest that bordered the human kingdom. And the humans tolerated their fey neighbours, as well as they could, for the creatures were troublesome and mischievous and were a constant danger to the humans._

_But one day a fairy more dangerous than the others appeared. She was a gryphon – a rare, winged fairy whose presence scared the humans. So the childless king made a decree that whoever slew the beast would become his heir._

_Needless to say, many young men tried – and failed – to take down the creature. She was too quick and too cautious to be caught by any ordinary means._

_Almost._

_Nearly a year passed, and hope was dwindling, when a young peasant tricked the fairy. With the help of an enchanted dagger and a sleeping draught, he killed the gryphon and severed her wings from her back. He presented her wings to the king, and thus the fairy threat was eliminated, for once and for all._

_In time, the peasant became king, as promised, and the king a husband, and finally a father. He ruled fairly and justly, and the humans were pleased with their new ruler; a ruler with humble beginnings, who knew of their hardships and troubles, and he was loved by many. And the evil fairy, who had so threatened their kingdom, was gone and the kingdom lived on in peace._

_Or so the story goes..._

ooOoo

Chapter 1: The Night Visitor

Humbert von Gikkingen – son of the sorcerer, Baron Edmund von Gikkingen and the herbalist, Lady Elora von Gikkingen – watched the brownie scuttle across the desk.

In some parts of the world, brownies were considered a blessing. They were said to tidy and clean and – in some cases – even make shoes. Whoever thought that had obviously never seen a brownie, Humbert was sure, let alone have one in their house. Brownies were ugly creatures – small and squat and – unsurprisingly – brown. An ugly shade of brown. They had tiny, pinprick eyes and sharp teeth that – and Humbert was glad to have no experience in the matter – had a very nasty, and very painful bite.

They were none too smart either, for the brownie in question was running straight across the desk, in plain view of the human. It hadn't even thought to shapeshift. It just scurried, in its ugly, wrinkled, humanoid form.

Humbert watched the stupid creature scurry for a little longer before breaking patience. He leant back and picked up a pair of tongs beside the long-dead fire from the night before. He tapped it once against his palm to clear the remaining soot, and then snagged the dumb creature with the prongs.

Needless to say, the brownie spewed forth a myriad of ugly and none-too-inventive insults that were, overall, pretty crass. Certainly nothing Humbert would ever dare to say in front of his mother. Not if he didn't want a harsh boxing round the ears, anyway.

He rose to his feet with the brownie still attached to the prongs and still spitting abuse. He briefly wondered whether, if he held it for long enough, it would run out of insults, but he decided against it. He received the distinct impression that the creature could go on for quite a while yet.

He marched over to the window of his room and dangled the brownie over the herbaceous garden. In throwing the creature across the garden, he was rewarded with a shrill scream as it disappeared beyond their hedge.

"And stay out!" he shouted.

"Humbert!" His mother called his name through the door, sharply tapping against the side. "Louise is here! Oh! What's going on?" Elora's eyes widened as Humbert opened the door with the ashened tongs still in hand. He remembered he was wielding the metal and lowered it.

"Brownie," he muttered.

"Another one? That's the third one this week."

"We should really start thinking about setting some traps down," the young man said. He dropped the tongs into the coal bucket brushed the dust off his hands. This was a topic he'd breeched many times and every time it had received the same answer.

"Humbert, you know what your father and I think about those things. No traps."

"But, Mother–"

"No traps," Elora firmly repeated, in that tone she used when there really was no point arguing further. She manoeuvred him out of his room and pushed him in the direction of the front door. "Louise is waiting for you outside; don't leave her waiting." She kissed him on the cheek and sent him going. "And don't forget the festival tonight."

"How could I forget?" He grinned once back to his mother before disappearing through the door to greet the beautiful blonde standing at his doorstep. He dropped into a low bow, sweeping an imaginary top hat off his head. "My princess."

The young woman swatted at him. "I told you not to call me that."

"Of course, my princess."

She flicked him on the nose, causing him to straighten abruptly from his bow. "Stop it."

He rubbed his nose ruefully. "Or what? You'll set your father on me?"

"Don't tempt me," she said, but the smile twitching at her lips betrayed her humour. "Come on; Muta and Toto are already in the town square. Muta's helping his father set up the stall for the festival this evening." She wrinkled her nose. "I think we've been drafted in to help set up the decorations."

"We?" Baron echoed.

The young princess laughed. "Well, okay, maybe they drafted _you_ in specifically. I think they need more tall people to set up the bunting." She beamed. "I'm just there for encouragement and aesthetic."

Humbert laughed and started towards the square. Louise really was pretty – well, beautiful. Her hair was closer to platinum blonde, and her eyes were a brilliant blue. Even as the princess – which Humbert could never quite get to grips with – she spent more time out of the palace than in it, bustling round the town and acting more like a common local than royalty.

"So, what was the shouting about?" The blonde skipped backwards as they went, uncannily light on her feet. When Humbert's surprise became visible on his face, she grinned. "I think I saw something fly from the first floor as I arrived – screaming as it went. Another fairy?"

"Brownie," the young nobleman confirmed. "The critters won't stop creeping into the house. I keep telling mother to set down some traps, but..."

"She still won't hear of such a thing?" Louise finished. "Well, I guess they _are_ living things..."

"So are mice and Mother's fine with setting traps for them. Anyway," he added, "mice don't have quite the same sting in a single bite."

"A single bite?" A new voice piped up from behind the couple, audibly smirking. "Are we referring to fatso's ability to devour a cake in one mouthful?" Toto Morrigan, son of a local carpenter (the elder Morrigan fully intent on his wayward son following his legacy) bounced at Humbert's elbow. Toto had no intention of taking up the family business, but he hadn't quite got round to telling his father that. He was tall and thin with piercing black eyes and an angular face. He was the exact opposite of the man across the square.

To say that Renaldo Moon – or Muta, to his friends – was fat would perhaps not be unjust. He was, in all fairness, rather large and his overall shape could only be truly described as 'round'. Still, it was perhaps wise to keep such observations to oneself; Muta had little patience for being reminded of such details. The man in question flung a string of bunting at Toto's head.

"I heard that, ya chickenbrain!"

"I'd rather be a chicken than a Christmas pudding!"

Humbert raised his eyebrows to Louise. "Tell me truly: did you just bring me here for damage control?"

The blonde grinned. "Well, you _know_ what they get like when they work together."

"So what am I meant to do? They don't listen to me."

Louise shrugged. "Well, they definitely don't listen to me."

"You're the princess," Humbert reminded her. "Surely there's something you can do?" Even as he spoke, the verbal argument had grown into physical, and some of the cakes from Muta's family bakery were threatening to become casualties.

"Oh, sure," the woman answered. "I could clap them in chains, if you really wanted, but I don't think even a night in the palace dungeon would cool them down. Anyway," she added, "the only thing scarier than them being mad at each other is the idea of them both being mad at _me_. Perhaps another time."

Around the square, other stalls were being set up for that evening's festivities, although the other people paid little heed to the brewing storm settling between Toto and Muta. After all, they were local. They were far too familiar with the carpenter and baker's sons; the two were unfortunate neighbours and declared enemies. Strangely enough, this somehow didn't stop friendship from springing up between them.

Louise, as familiar as anyone was with the duo's fights, ignored them and took a seat perched on a box of decorations. A leafed garland hung limply from the side. "So... are you excited for the festival tonight?"

"Of course. Who doesn't enjoy the summer celebration?"

"Your father said he's going to give you full reign over the light display this evening."

"That is true."

Louise grinned. "Are you nervous?"

"Nervous?" Humbert repeated. "Of what? It's only a light display that everyone – and I mean everyone, your royal father included – in the town is going to be watching and expecting... What's there to be nervous about?"

As the shouting behind them grew to a crescendo, Louise rolled her eyes and slipped to her feet. "Sounds like it's time to intercede. Don't worry about tonight, Humbert. You'll do great."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Well, I know you... and I've seen the magic you do. You've been practicing for _weeks_ , Humbert. You know what you're doing. What could possibly go wrong?"

ooOoo

On the first evening of the week-long summer festival, the night always opened with a light display. For the past twenty years, this service had been provided by the sorcerer, Baron Edmund von Gikkingen and, in more recent years, in tandem with his son. This, however, was the first year that Humbert von Gikkingen stood alone on the turret of the tower, waiting for the sun to set.

From his vantage point, he could see the eager crowd gathering in the square, bustling and chattering, excited for the summer festival to finally officially begin. At his current height, Humbert could also make out the edge of the town and, beyond that, the forest.

The forest had always – as long as anyone remembered – been home to the fairies. More and more recently, however, they had been venturing out and wandering into the town. Even the smaller ones – the brownies and pixies – were dangerous in the nasty bite they could deliver. Only fools would live so close to fey lands but, for whatever reason, their ancestors had seen fit to set up settlement here. And their descendents, stubborn as they were, were too obstinate to change that. The forest loomed out across the landscape and over the horizon, halted only by the coastline that rounded from the town and into the distance.

Humbert put his back to the dark woodland and leant down against the circular tower. He rolled up his sleeves and clicked his fingers, sparking his magic into life. Little embers of light flickered from his hands and illuminated the light grey suit he had donned for the occasion. He flexed his hands and the sparks disappeared.

The crowd murmured below him. They were growing restless; the sun had already set, but light still streamed from over the horizon. Humbert's father had told him to wait a little longer before starting the show.

"You don't want to tire yourself out before it's dark enough to see the show," Edmund had told him earlier. "The audience might get impatient, but it's much easier to impress them when you don't have to compete with the sun."

And so Humbert waited. He started to warm up his magic, flicking miniature light shows into life before him. Like fireworks, the miniature coloured lights spun up to head height, slowed, and then burst into new colours. He wove them in and out of one another, practicing the show that he would soon present to the crowd. Although his father had reassured him that extending the size of the lights was nothing too complicated, Humbert had never created a light show of such magnitude and complicity solo. Right now, the dancing lights were easily manipulated between his fingers.

The last residuals of light slipped over the horizon and the sky darkened. Humbert breathed in the warm night air and stepped up to the turret's edge. Before the crowd, Humbert could make out the blonde, almost white, head of Louise, standing beside the regal form of her father, the king. Despite her position, the young woman raised her hands in a thumbs up to him. Humbert grinned.

"Alright. Here we go..."

He rolled his hands over one another, running them round and round until a ball of light started to form between his palms. The glow gave off a gentle warmth that tingled with the enchantment of magic. Between his fingers, blues and reds flickered, tendrils of green and yellow weaving through and sparking off flames of purple and gold. As yet more colours emerged, a thin sheen of sweat started to build on his brow. The difficulty wasn't just in creating the magic, but also in confining it.

He was breathing hard now. He took a half step back and opened his palms to the skies; the lights spewed out into the heavens and spiralled up. Humbert's hands danced through the air, working hard to reel the light into his control. A sweep of his palm and a cascade of purple lights exploded apart and spun down into the crowd. Humbert risked a laugh as the audience gasped, and then settled into audible awe at the will-o-wasps dancing around them.

His father had often told him to imagine guiding the lights as a puppeteer pulls strings. He twisted his fingers and the blue lights cascaded over one another, rolling into a wave. White stars jumped out of the surf and gathered into leaping dolphins.

He let the watery scene collapse and spun the lights into a bouquet. From the posy, a handful of red and green dots dropped down to Louise's level. From the distance he stood, it was difficult to create the detail, but he had practised this many times. He wove the lights into a rose that glowed before the blonde. He wished he could see her face.

Now he found the practice taking hold. He threw himself into the next stage of the show, his hands moving instinctively to puppeteer the dancing stars. The flowers melted into butterflies, and then into twisting lights that split into birds. Humbert fired shooting stars across the town, their colours changing and sweeping back towards the tower when they reached the ground – when a shadow of something slipped across the darkening night sky.

Something large.

Humbert twisted where he stood, trying to make out the shape. The puppet stars faltered as he strained to watch the shadow shift between the glittering images. The lights blinded out the darkness, and so the audience below had no idea of the form flying beyond the show, but Humbert knew something was out there.

His hands continued to twist the lights through the show through pure practice, but his mind was elsewhere now. Unintentionally, the shooting stars he was firing deviated from their course and followed his line of sight. He tried to pull them back, but it was already too late for that.

The first star to hit the creature burst into fiery red.

The crowd screamed as a winged form was momentarily outlined in crimson. The head was curved round, refined and furred with jaws bared with teeth. The teeth flashed uncannily white in the light. But it was the wings – the wings that curved up across the body and spread out across the sky – that sent the crowd scattering back.

Another of Humbert's comets smacked into the creature's side – this one a deep-sea blue – and the form was outlined once again. It dropped down and Humbert could see it spiralling out of the town and towards the coastline, blinded by the lights. The young man dropped shaking hands to his side and then a gradual commotion started in the square.

He was shocked enough by the creature to take several slow moments to recognise the sound as applause. The audience had evidently decided that the beast had been an elaborate trick and that it was the grand finale to his show.

The young man stepped back and slipped to the ground. He was sweating.

It hadn't been a trick.

It had been real.

And he knew his eyes hadn't deceived him.

He... had just shot down a gryphon.

ooOoo

"You didn't tell me you'd added that to your routine." Louise prodded Humbert playfully in the arm. "It almost gave me a heart attack! How long had you been practising _that_ in secret?"

The young man smiled ruefully, but didn't answer immediately. If word started to get out that he thought he had seen a gryphon – and now, an hour later, he wasn't so sure that he had – then panic would spread. It had been nearly two decades since the last one had been around and the stories of fear were still far too abundant. "The shock was part of the effect," he eventually settled on.

"But it looked so lifelike – I think Father actually swore when he saw it!" The blonde seemed rather amused by her father's reaction, regardless of his royal status. "I think he thought it was a ghost. All the same," she added, prodding him once more, "don't do that again. You nearly started a riot."

That didn't make Humbert feel any better. "Don't worry; that'll be the last gryphon you'll see from me."

ooOoo

On the first official day of the summer festival, Humbert rose with the sun. He left a short note explaining his absence – collecting herbs for his mother's work was the excuse he gave – and headed out of the town. After a good night's sleep, the idea of a gryphon seemed even more absurd than it had an hour after the event. After all, everyone knew that King David had slain the last one years ago.

But still... he had to be sure.

As he trooped through the forest, towards the coastline, he began to wonder just how foolish this plan had been. Yes, the creature had been big – twice as big as a lion – but the forest was bigger. Far bigger. Even if it had made it to the coastline, there was miles of it to have fallen. And that was assuming it hadn't flown into the sea and perished. Could fairies even swim? He had never heard of one being seen in the ocean.

The forest around him hummed with untamed life. Wild life. Life that wouldn't, he was sure, be too fussed about taking a bite or two out of him. Even with the bow – which had been a present several years back – strung across him, he was far from reassured that he could defend himself. He had the aim for the weapon, but not the speed or instinct. Or even the practice, really. If something came for him, his last action would probably be him fumbling for the dratted thing.

Swatting away the tangled vines dropping down from the colloquially-known fairy trees, Humbert came to the cliff-edge that bordered the coast. Below, the sea rolled against the rock, smashing indefinitely into the barrier. He leant out, gazing out along the cliff to see the land's end stretch out across the forest.

He was about to turn around and give the cause up when he spotted a felled tree leaning perilously over the side. It looked freshly fallen.

He hesitated as a frown burrowed its way into his brow. It was probably nothing, but... just in case...

He followed the cliff-edge until he came to the fallen tree. Its branches were scattered across the ground, its roots ripped straight from the earth. Something big had struck it last night.

Humbert crept to the brink of the cliff. A small, sandy shore buffered the land from the sea, and rocks rose just above the high tide limit to present a dry plateau. It would have been an almost perfect beach – if it hadn't been separated from the forest by ten metres of cliff. Yes, it was very nice – but there was no fairy to be seen.

Humbert smiled weakly to himself, feeling more foolish than ever. He turned away. A winged fairy? It looked like he had been working one night too many.

Something moved on the ground below.

Humbert stopped.

Listened.

It was the sound of soft, but large, footsteps. Or, perhaps more accurately, _pawsteps_. There was also the noise of something heavy being dragged along a rocky surface. That was harder to identify. He crept back to the edge and peered over.

The dark form of the gryphon limped across the plateau.


	2. A Life Spared

Chapter 2: A Life Spared

There were several things that were accepted as general knowledge when it came to fairies. Firstly, fairies were not friendly. They were dangerous.

Secondly, that all fairies had two forms – a human one and a feline one. Even in their human form, fairies still possessed the same angular, animalistic eyes that made it impossible for them to blend into a human crowd. Fairies came in all sizes – some, like the brownies, only as large as a foot, while others could be as tall as a person in their human shape. Their feline form was why the people of the town so liked to keep canine pets. They were meant to keep the vermin away.

Thirdly, no fairy had been seen with wings for two decades.

Such fairies had been called gryphons, for they allegedly retained their wings in both forms, and so their feline shape made them more akin to the winged cats of legend than anything else recognisable.

And so, it was with muted breath that Humbert watched the gryphon limp out of the cave. It was bigger than a panther, with sleek, dark brown fur and a tail that swung slowly from side to side. But it was clearly injured. The dragging noise had been the right wing sagging at its side, trailing along the rock as it walked. The dark feathers seemed singed.

Had he done that? The wing's bent angle looked like it had been broken – that was probably due to the fall – but his light magic had never harmed anyone before. It must have been the shock that had set his magic ablaze.

The creature's paws also looked less-than-healthy; they were an irritable red, tender and sore. For the life of him, Humbert couldn't work out what had caused that.

The gryphon sank down to the ground at the edge of the plateau, a metre up from the sloping sandy shore. The uninjured wing tucked neatly against its back, while the other rested awkwardly against its side, unable to fit it back into place.

While watching it, Humbert realised his mouth had gone dry with shock. A gryphon – a real gryphon! Wait until the others heard about this! He almost started back towards town, but he paused before he had even taken a step. The gryphon was injured, but it was far from down-for-the-count just yet. If he left, it might escape before he brought backup. And then they'd have a very angry gryphon on their hands.

Also, perhaps... perhaps it would be a way to prove himself...

He inched towards the edge, his eyes picking out a variety of foot and hand holds that would support him. Silently, he clambered over the edge and climbed down towards a protruding ledge – a good four metres from the plateau – where he could clearly make out the fairy's form. Here, he would have a good vantage point. Even if the gryphon saw him, it wouldn't be able to reach him – at least, he hoped not.

He pulled the bow off over his head and shifted his grip around the hold. As he fitted the first arrow, the beast looked up.

Dark eyes – so very human eyes – met his. For a moment, the fairy did nothing except stare at the strange human kneeling on the ledge, arrow notched and ready to be raised in its direction. Humbert's breath shallowed. Now what?

For several seconds, neither moved. The human found it strangely hard to tear his gaze from the fairy's; he tried to remember the tales of terror he'd been told all his life. How the books spoke of the power and danger a single gryphon could cause. To the children of this town, stories of wild gryphons replaced those of the bogeyman. Here, gryphons were nothing but monsters.

He slowly raised the bow towards the beast.

A heartbeat passed.

The arrow flew.

The gryphon lunged in the same second that Humbert released the arrow and so, instead of the clean shot he had been aiming for, the arrow sliced into the injured wing. The gryphon howled and leapt for the ledge. It missed, but not by much. Humbert scrabbled back as the creature dropped back onto all fours and its legs gave way beneath it. The twice-hurt wing weighed it down this time and it didn't try to jump for Humbert again. It simply stared up at him with a tired resignation.

Humbert notched the second arrow with difficulty; his hands were shaking but whether that was shock or fear, he couldn't be sure. At this range, his next arrow wouldn't miss. But, even as he hefted the unfamiliar bow in its direction, the creature's dark eyes never looked away. Its eyes looked so... human. Weren't they meant to be feline?

His heart was pounding, beating wildly against the constraints of his chest. In the quietness of the coast, the sound seemed to fill his whole being, hammering away until it was all he could hear. Until it was all he could feel. He closed his eyes.

Sighed.

And his heart slowed. His hands dropped away, lowering the bow.

"I can't do this," he whispered. When his eyes opened, the creature was looking at him with a new expression – shock? Disbelief? Relief? He was too tired to care. "You'd better get going before someone else finds you," he said and he rose to his feet. "I can't promise you that the next human will be so weak." He strung the bow over one shoulder and grabbed the handholds he had taken earlier. He started to climb back up to the top.

The gryphon stared, and then began back across the plateau.

Humbert had only taken a step or so before one of the handholds crumbled beneath his feet. There was a yelp as he slipped down, lunging for a fresh grip. He struck out with his feet, trying to land back onto the thin ledge, but his toes missed. His ankle ripped into the side and he dropped like a stone onto the plateau.

The world blacked out for a moment and then swam back into dubious focus. Laborious seconds ticked by in which he was only aware of the pain, and the pounding sound of blood in his ears. He pushed himself up, wincing as he went but quickly discerning the lack of broken bones.

Small mercies and all that.

Once the worst of the dizziness had dissipated, he took stock of his surroundings.

Cliff.

Sea.

Gryphon...

Humbert's hands went fumbling for the bow he had dropped with him, clumsily trying to string a new arrow and level it between him and the beast – the beast that was now bounding towards him with alarming speed. His fingers slipped again at the bowstring. They were numb from the fall and the disorientation still lingered. He finally fitted in the arrow and swung it towards the winged creature, but a paw as big as his head struck the weapon from his hands and landed on his chest. It pinned him down to the ground with both paws. The claws dug into his clothing, their points coming dangerously close to his skin.

Humbert struggled against his captor, kicking out at whatever he could reach. His hands went for the paws – the red, sore paws that he had noted earlier – and his boots aimed for the wings. The creature howled as Humbert made a swift kick into its injured wing. It momentarily loosened, and he tried to pull himself to his feet, his hands reaching out for the weapon he had lost before. The gryphon caught him with another blow and again pinned him down. The paw leant hard enough into his chest that this time all breath was pushed out of him. He gasped and stopped struggling for the arrow. Any harder and he was going to break a rib. Or several.

"Stop – please–"

The creature roared into his face as Humbert's attention turned to the huge paw pressing all the air from him. His fingers scrabbled against the fur, desperately trying to pry it loose. Trying to push enough distance apart for him to snatch another breath. He was seeing stars, his fingers already going numb. They fumbled weakly, ineffectually against the gryphon, loosing orientation as the seconds ticked by. It wasn't working. The fingers slowed.

Eventually the fingers stopped trying altogether.

It was useless.

He slumped back against the ground, staring up into the dark eyes of his attacker. He briefly berated himself on his foolishness – this never would have happened if he had just shot the damn thing when he had the chance. As the numbness spread across the rest of his body, he forced his mouth to move. No air was left to spare for breath, but his lips managed to form a single word.

" _Please_."

The pressure suddenly released him. Consciously, he had no energy left to move, but the survival instinct kicked in for him. His diaphragm spasmed, dragging into a lungful of fresh, salty air. The next breath was a heavy, almost painful gasp, and he slumped to one side. The sudden rush of air disorientated him anew and instinctive retching shook through him. He was suddenly glad that he had skipped breakfast in his hurry that morning.

The full force of the shock began to subside, although it would be a long while before it receded entirely, and he glanced over to the creature that had just spared his life.

The gryphon had returned to its previous post, at the edge of the plateau over the sandy shore. The wing was still bent at an uncomfortable angle, the tail trailing along the ground as the head rested against its huge paws.

 _Go_ , it seemed to say. _Before I change my mind_.

Baron rose unsteadily to his feet, rubbing a hand against his chest to reassure himself that he hadn't broken any ribs in the exchange. Miraculously, it appeared he'd escaped relatively unscathed, save for the throbbing bruises he could feel developing. He glanced down to his broken bow. Even with its back to him, Humbert couldn't shake the feeling that it was somehow watching him. He glanced up at the cliff and grimaced as he realised there was no way he was going to be climbing that in a hurry.

If the gryphon couldn't climb back up, his chances were non-existent.

Finally, his gaze turned on the cave that the gryphon had initially appeared from, and he started into its dark depths. Part of him rebelled against this idea; if the gryphon came after him, then he had nowhere to run – but he reassured himself with the fact that if it wanted to kill him, it could have easily already done so. He tried not to remember just how close that had come.

As he came to the back of the cave, and the cave narrowed, his hopes began to sink. Of course, he could try swimming out of here and along the coastline until he reached an easy bay – but that was dangerous all by itself. While something the gryphon's size could probably swim against the ocean, Humbert would all-too-easily be swept away by a stray current. Of course, if it was that or waiting here for the gryphon to get hungry, well...

His outstretched hands felt something in the dark blocking his way. At first, he automatically assumed it was more rock, but he was surprised when his hands curled round bars. Cold, iron bars. He glanced back as his hands travelled across the surface. Evidently the gryphon hadn't explored this far back, or it would have escaped by now. He found the bolt and pulled it open. The door moved with a reluctant, ancient wheezing. He slipped through the iron gate and tugged it shut after him. The bolt fell back into place.

"Guess the old stories about pirates and smugglers must be true," Humbert murmured as he wandered through the dark. A gentle breeze from ahead reassured him that the cave would eventually lead him out, the path sloping towards the surface.

For half an hour, he stumbled blindly through the darkness. His eyes were straining to make out anything other than the black of nothingness; he had never realised how absolute black could be, for even at night the moon and stars were there to shine. But here... here only the feel of the cold, wet walls of the cave were there to guide him, leading him upwards to what he hoped was light.

The darkness eventually started to lift, and Humbert saw the first pinprick of light break tenaciously through the nothingness. His breath hitched and he started to run towards the ever-growing circle of light, finally bursting out into warm summer morning sunshine. He laughed up to the sky, not even caring how his eyes dizzied at the encompassing light. "I did it – I'm out!" he laughed. "I met a gryphon and I lived to tell the tale! I..." He abruptly trailed off, his humour fading as he recalled the event. When he spoke again, his voice was slower. Confused. "I... met a gryphon," he repeated, "and... it let me go..."

That wasn't how the stories went.

ooOoo

"Oh, Humbert!" Elora von Gikkingen tutted and scoffed when she saw the state of her returning son. He had tried sneaking back into the cottage, but his mother had just been too quick for him. "Honestly, how did you manage to make such a mess of yourself _collecting herbs_?" She tugged at the ripped sleeve, a teasing smile twitching at the corner of her lips. "What happened? Did the plants fight back?"

"I slipped."

Elora looked over her bedraggled son. "That takes some doing."

"I slipped," Humbert numbly repeated. He was glad that he had discarded the useless bow on the way back now; he was too tired to explain anything else. How was it still morning when so much had happened in the last few hours?

"And you forgot the plants."

"It was a bad slip."

His mother sighed and shook her head. "Your friends came round; Muta wanted you to help with his stall when you finally reappeared, so you better change into something a little less... bloodstained– " again, she tugged at the sleeve, bringing a dark stain into view " –seriously, is this blood?"

Humbert pulled the sleeve free and consciously dragged it back over his arm. That actually was from his slip, but she didn't need to also see the numerous bruising he also had acquired. He could feel them running along his shoulders and down his back. "There were thorns and brambles and I promise I shall clean this up – later."

"At least make sure you put this to soak before you go, otherwise it'll never wash out."

"I know, I know." Humbert kissed the brow of his mother and moved off to change into something – as Elora had put it – a little less bloodstained. It was only as he was heading out of the house that he realised he hadn't breathed a word of the gryphon's presence. And that he had absolutely no plans on sharing the news with any of his friends.

The gryphon had spared his life. The least he could do was the same.

ooOoo

The first thing Humbert became aware of when he reached the square was a white apron being thrown in his face. He pulled it off his face, glowering at his friend. "Really, Muta? Because passing it would take too much effort?"

"You're finally here," Muta grunted. "Good. Put that on and take over the stall while I get some brunch. How'd it take you so long to pick a few mangy plants anyway?"

"Don't ask." Humbert set to tying the string around his waist; it was one of Muta's spares, so the cord tied several times around his own waist to make it fit. "You're running a bakery stall; how can you be hungry?"

"Man cannot live on bread alone," the round man quoted. "Anyway, if you stick around long enough, birdbrain and yer girlfriend will probably turn up. They're about the square somewhere."

The young noble looked across the public plaza, filled with stalls fronted with colourful pieces and piled high with their wares. On the far side, a band set a merry tune playing through the crowd. "I'll never find them in this bustle – wait, what makes you think we're a couple?" he snapped, finally taking in Muta's words.

The other man only chuckled. "Took you long enough. Eh, come on; you think the princess sticks around our group because of birdbrain and me?"

"And you think it's because of _me_?"

"You're practically a couple already. I don't see what the fuss is about."

Humbert shoved Muta to the side as he took position overseeing the bakery stall. Due to Muta's girth, however, his attempt was much less effectual than he had been hoping for. Muta barely budged an inch. "Get going and find your brunch before I change my mind to help. And if you breathe a word of this to Louise," he shouted as the man moved to disappear into the crowd, "I'll feed your fingers to the fairies!"

A fat hand gave a brief thumbs up, and then blurred into the mass. Humbert shook his head and settled down for an expected good hour – or two – watching over the stand. He had no doubt his friend would take his sweet time eating.

"I see you've already been recruited into helping." A familiar blonde stopped by the stand twenty minutes later, an ice cream slowly melting into its cone. She offered it to him. "Honestly, sometimes I think you're too nice for your own good."

He thought back to his encounter with the gryphon and genuinely wanted to agree. But, then again, he was still breathing. "Debateable." He took the proffered ice cream. "Is this for me or is it for sharing?" He leant against the stall and bit back a yawn.

"Oh, don't worry. I finished my ice cream long ago." She raised an eyebrow as he failed to stifle the second yawn. "How early were you up this morning?"

"Sunrise," he answered.

"Humbert, you were up last night until midnight on the light show; what were you doing up at sunrise today?"

"Collecting plants for Mother. It seemed like a good idea at the time." To his surprise, a pang of guilt nagged at him at lying to Louise, one that hadn't arisen after skipping the truth with Muta or his mother. He succumbed to the next yawn. "I know, I know, I'm an idiot."

Louise flicked his arm. "Yes, yes you are. I hope you plan on an early night tonight."

Humbert hesitated. His mind returned to the gryphon, and his answer played across his face. Louise saw the expression.

"Oh, never mind," she sighed. "You've probably agreed to help your father with his studies or something. Listen, since Muta's busy with all the baking, I was thinking that we could perhaps offer a helping hand this afternoon..."

"You're thinking of the free muffins, aren't you?"

The blonde didn't even bother to blush at the suggestion. "Well, if we help make them, I can't see why we couldn't also help with the tasting..." Her grin grew. "So, what do you say?"

"Louise, I don't... I'm not sure I'm free later," he answered truthfully. A small voice inside his head wad demanding to know what he was doing. He had seen the gryphon once and lived – wasn't that enough? Now he should just get back to normal life here and leave the adventure to a tale to tell his grandkids, when he was old and senile and no one would take his story seriously. All the same... "Do you mind if you man the stall for a bit?" he asked abruptly. "Muta should be back in half an hour and I just need to check something."

"Half an hour? Can't it wait?"

"Probably," Humbert admitted. Regardless, he kissed the sweet blonde on the cheek and freed himself from the confines of the giant apron. "You're a star, Louise."

"And you're a menace," she grumbled. She took the discarded apron even so, tying her hair back as she rolled her eyes to the young noble. "I'm a princess, I shouldn't be doing this."

Humbert grinned. "Since when have you ever acted like a princess?" He tipped an imaginary hat and disappeared into the crowd. Manoeuvring his way past the people, he exited from the town square and started towards the columned library which edged the highstreet. His shoes tapped an echoed rhythm across the marble floor as he entered.

"And here I was, thinking no one would be coming in today." A man of medium build and a well-worn suit watched him enter, leaning against one of the bookshelves. A small metal tag identified him as one of the librarians. "What are you looking for?"

"I... was wondering if you had any books on gryphons?"

"Books? Of course we've got books," the librarian responded with a teasing smile. "You are, after all, in a library. But on gryphons...? They'll be the south-west corner, section 578, _Life Sciences_ division." A slight wrinkle in his brow denoted the faintest beginnings of confusion. "But why the interest in gryphons? They've been extinct for nearly twenty years now – the only time those books get taken out are for school project nowadays – wait, are you Edmund's son?"

Humbert smiled weakly. Any moment now, he was going to be told just how much he looked like his old man. He nodded.

"Thought so. You take after your father, if you don't mind me saying. You were the one doing the..." he mimicked flashing lights with his hands and it took Humbert a moment to register that he was imitating the light display, "...last night, weren't you?"

"That would be me."

"I saw the gryphon you made the other night – startling realistic, quite took my breath away – I suppose your interest will be because of that?"

Humbert hesitated. "It stems from that, yes. Thanks for your help, but I've really just got to pick up some information and then head back to the fair; I promised a friend I wouldn't be long." He nodded a quick farewell to the librarian and hurried through the maze of bookshelves. It didn't take him long to find the necessary section, and soon was pulling books from their shelves.

" _All fairies are a mystery and a danger, but none so much as the fearsome gryphon, a creature twice the size of any other fairy in its feline form and tenfold as lethal_ ," he read aloud from the first tome. " _Its ability for flight makes it unpredictable and able to cover distances far quicker than the fastest mount. In the words of King Thomas the Second: The only good gryphon is a dead gryphon..._ "

He shut the book and hurried to pick the next from the shelf.

" _Dangerous and lethal..._ "

" _Prone to attacking without cause..._ "

" _Unable to reason with, and people should not be encouraged to try so..._ "

" _In case of meeting such a creature, the only option of securing survival is to... kill it..._ "

Humbert closed the most recent book, adding it slowly to the large pile to his left. He felt vaguely sick; turbulent emotions rolling round inside him. If anyone else were to come across the gryphon, they would surely show none of the weakness he had and its fate would be sealed. It shouldn't disturb him, but he kept going back to those uncannily human eyes that had stared up at him with such despair and then those paws that had released him.

The gryphon that had let a human go free.

He returned the books to their shelves and quickly left the library behind him. Many years of research and experience had shown these creatures to be dangerous – or so his reading implied... Who was he to think that one lone encounter made him more knowledgeable than all who had come before him?

He arrived back at the bakery stall with those troubling thoughts still circling his mind. He had escaped once from the claws of death – it would be foolish to even think about flirting with death a second time.

"Hey... Humbert?" Louise hovered by his elbow, untying herself from the oversized apron and returning it to him. "Is something the matter? You look... a little shaken."

He looped the apron's expansive ties twice around his waist and only fumbled when it came to knotting the straps. Until then, he had been trying to ignore his unease, but it had slipped past his defences in the form of suddenly-clumsy fingers. Louise took the matter out of his hands and swiftly secured the straps into a bow.

"Humbert?"

"I'm just tired, Louise. Perhaps I shouldn't have had such an early start this morning."

The young princess stepped back to look anew at him. There was confusion flittering behind her eyes, as if she could sense the lie but couldn't discern why. "If you say so, Humbert. But... if you decide that it's not just tiredness, then I'm here to help."

"You're too good to me, Louise."

"Well, we're friends, aren't we?"

Humbert smiled softly. Yes – and friends shouldn't keep secrets from one another. Especially not secrets like the one he was carrying. Louise knew he was hiding something from her, and instead of pestering him for the truth, she had stepped away to let him make his own decision. A fresh stab of guilt prodded at him.

"Wait, Louise–"

"So I see the fatso ensnared you two lovebirds into playing shop." Toto swung onto the scene, a couple of second-hand books under one arm and a mulberry muffin in the other. "I would have hoped that you would have learnt better by now."

"And I see you've already made your way around the fair," Humbert replied. He glanced to the recently-bought books Toto was cradling. "I also see you're still studying to be a healer."

"Well, it's not as if my father's going to pay for my education," the taller man replied. "So I have to teach myself."

"Have you tried _telling_ him that you don't want to be a carpenter?" Louise asked.

"Not in so many words."

"So how do you know he won't if you never try?"

Toto gave his usual sharp laugh, and shook his head. "Oh, you haven't heard him. ' _Ah, son, 'tis good to see you in a proper trade, like yer old man; yer a good, down-to-earth fella, like me; 'tis in yer bones_.'"

Humbert raised an eyebrow. "Your father sounds nothing like that."

"Give me some leeway; I want to be a healer, not a comedian."

"But why did you give him a bad northern accent?" Louise asked.

"I thought my northern accent was pretty good."

"Toto," Humbert said, "it's the _only_ accent you can do; your standards are not exactly dizzyingly high."

"I could be insulted by that."

"You could, but you are not so easily offended. Also your father is coming this way and so, if you want to avoid explaining your reading selection, you'd better pass those tomes to me before he sees."

Toto glanced behind him, saw that this was indeed true, and hastily pushed the books in Humbert's direction. "Thanks for the warning."

"You're welcome. You _are_ aware that you are going to have to break the news to him sooner or later, right?"

"Yes, but I'm planning to err on the side of later."

"Good plan," Louise said. "I can't see how that could _possibly_ backfire."

"I get enough sarcasm from the fatso, thank you very much."

Humbert chuckled and shelved the books at the back of the stall. This was where he belonged – in this world of ordinary life, with his friends and family and the bustle of town life about him. The gryphon had spared him – and so he could at least repay it in kind. However, unless anything came up, he had no reason to return, or to even think of the creature again. He would leave it safely in his past – as a distant, strange memory – and hopefully stem the need for secrecy.

After all, it would be beyond foolishness to return there...

ooOoo

The bakery back room was a heat-infused concentration of rising dough and flour, warm and inviting and full of life. A smile rose to the young noble's face as he ducked into the room later that day; he had spent many hours of his childhood sneaking into the bakery with his friends and the place was a slice of home. He wrapped his arms around Louise as he snuck in from behind. "Smells delicious," he said. "You should disown your royal heritage and turn to being a baker."

"Now you're just flattering for flattery's sake," the platinum blonde said, but she twisted her gaze to grin at the young man. "I thought you said you weren't free this afternoon."

"I changed my mind."

"We are so honoured. Are you going to help or are you just here to boost my ego and snack?" She slapped his hand away before he managed to steal a cookie from a recent batch. "Paws off."

"To help, of course. All flattery and snacking are included, however. Anyway," he added with a roguish grin, "it's not flattery if it's true."

"Hey, lovebirds! Stop yammering and get working!" Something that felt like suspiciously an apron hit the back of Humbert's head. He released Louise and turned to gather the apron that was pooling by his feet, glaring at the round man.

"Good to see you too, Muta." As he set to tying the apron strings about his waist, he said, "You are aware that we volunteered for this? You're only allowed to order us about if you're actually paying us for our pains."

" _You_ volunteered," Muta reminded him gruffly. "You knew what you were getting yourself into." The family bakery was a small establishment, mostly run by Muta and his parents, small enough that they had no regular employees. It was only during festivals that they were swept off their feet for work, and in such times, Humbert and the rest often pitched in. "If you're sticking around, there's some cookies that need to be shaped before they're baked." Muta threw a thumb to a tray across the room. "Some are already done; just follow the theme."

"As you wish." Humbert moved to the appointed tray and froze as he saw the form of the completed cookies. He turned back to his friend. "What did you say the theme was?" he asked slowly.

"Do yer like them?" There was a note of pride in his work as Muta called across the bakery. "Ever since your cheesy light show, all people have been talkin' about today are gryphons. I'm hoping these are going to sell like hotcakes."

So people still remembered the gryphon crashing into his light display. He should have known – after the librarian's comments and the crowd's initial reaction. There was a whole generation – his generation – who had grown up without seeing or hearing of a single gryphon; his light show had just resparked interest in what was considered an extinct species. If only they knew...

"What's the problem?" Muta asked in response to Humbert's continuing silence. "Pixie got yer tongue?"

"No, I... I love them." The gryphon-shaped cookies were basic and based on the simplest of the childhood stories. They were prickly creations, all teeth and claws and jagged spike running along their back. Nothing like the sleek, feline beast he had seen at the shore. He took the knife and started to carve out more gryphons from the cookie spread.

"They're pretty." Louise appeared at his elbow a while later, mixing bowl in hand as she looked over his shoulder. "Different, though. What inspired that design?"

"It just... came to me." Humbert's creations had started out as the crude monsters Muta had carved out, but each new cookie had taken on a form more akin to the real gryphon, to the elegant creature he imagined it would be if it were not injured. Now the cookies he was forming were sleek and streamlined and – dare he say it – _beautiful_. The latest ones he had taken to scouring in detail of the feathers in the wings and the dark eyes that he couldn't shake from his mind.

"I've never seen any gryphon like that..."

"You've never seen a gryphon," Humbert reminded her.

"Oh, and _you_ have?" she teased.

Muta, who had been passing by, snorted. "If he'd seen a gryphon, it'd have ter be dead."

"And what do you mean by that, Muta?" Humbert asked, turning to face the large man.

"Well, you know the only way to survive a gryphon encounter is to kill it before it kills you."

"Or run very fast," Louise offered.

Now it was Toto's turn to snort. "Just as well lardball here has never seen a gryphon then. Otherwise he'd be a fairy snack by now. Anyway, everyone knows you can't outrun a gryphon." Toto mimicked claws with his long fingers. "They'll snatch you up in their talons and fly away to eat you."

"Or they'll just drop you from the sky and eat your flattened remains from the ground," Muta added.

"Not with you, they wouldn't," the dark-haired man snickered. "They wouldn't be able to lift you off the ground, fatso. No, they'd just eat you alive."

"So there was one rogue gryphon once," Humbert said. "That doesn't mean all gryphons are like that." He was vaguely uncomfortable with the thought of the injured gryphon eating his splattered corpse from the rocky shore. When he had discarded that disturbing image, he was aware that his friends were giving him openly confused looks. "What is it?"

"Humbert, your parents helped my father kill the last gryphon," Louise reminded him slowly. "They received their title because of it. You'd be the last person we'd expect to speak up in defence of the creatures."

"It doesn't matter anyway," Muta added, although he still sounded a little off-balance from Humbert's previous statement. "Like you said, princess, your father killed the last one years ago. He couldn't bring 'em back even if he wanted to. And you don't want to, do yah?"

Humbert smiled weakly. "It would do no good to anyone, even if I could," he said.


	3. The Beginning of Change

Humbert woke early the next morning, but with a comfortable sense of restfulness that came from a good night's sleep. With the week-long festival under way, there was an air of merriness that brightened the spirits of the town's inhabitants. His stomach quickly reminded him that, festival or no festival, it was still morning and he was hungry. He started downstairs with the intent to scavenge the cupboards when he passed by his father's study.

By the stubby condition of the flickering candle and his father's jawline, Humbert immediately discerned that at least one member of the von Gikkingen family had gone without sleep that night. He sidestepped the books that were almost forming furniture in their own right and joined the older man's side. "You're going to strain your eyesight if you read by candlelight every night," he scolded. "Are these new books?"

"James brought in the books I requested from the Grand Library in Wickshireton yesterday," his father rambled. Huge, dark bags hung under his eyes as he flicked through the nearest volume. Almost absent-mindedly, he gulped from a cup of tea that had surely gone cold hours ago. "I've never found such detailed studies on _Armillaria caeleste_ –"

"And they'll still be there after you've slept," Humbert said. He smoothly twisted the tea out of his father's grip before he could spill it over the precious tomes. "You can hardly see straight. You know your notes will be nonsense if you write in this state."

Edmund von Gikkingen turned to face his son and, as Humbert had predicted, it took the man several stinted seconds to focus his gaze on the younger von Gikkingen. He blinked, groaned, and rubbed at his eyes. "Maybe you're right," he admitted, "but it was too interesting to stop."

Humbert took after his father in build and shape, but there the majority of similarities ended. They had the same face, and their hair, although different shades, had the same quality. It didn't help that, when he dressed for the occasion, they both wore the same styled suit. But where the father's eyes were a bright blue, the son's were a bright green. Where the dark, greying hair distinguished the father, the son was marked by tawny, ginger hair.

However, while Humbert shared his father's passion for books and learning, he had never quite taken it to the same level as the elder Gikkingen. Perhaps in time. He had certainly never quite understood his father's fascination with the fairies – after all, everyone knew that the von Gikkingens had gained their title through helping the current king to slay the last gryphon. Quite why his father would then _study_ the creatures made little sense.

However, after a lifetime of living with his father's research – and after twenty years of research, Baron Edmund von Gikkingen was quite honestly an expert – Humbert had picked up a rudimentary understanding of the field. He leant over his father's shoulder.

" _Armillaria caeleste_?" he echoed. "The fairy trees?"

"Quite so!" his father enthused. "Why do you think we call them that? Because fairies are only found where those trees grow. Perhaps it is just a fluke, maybe the trees share the same environmental conditions that the fairies need to thrive, but it's possible that we're looking at a case of mutual symbiosis! Think of what that would mean!"

Humbert paused, digesting his father's words. He knew how his father's mind worked, and it was probably not coming to the same conclusion his was. "That... they depend on the trees to survive?"

"Yes! And that would indicate a complex life system – I mean, this could be evidence that the fairies contribute to their environment and are a vital component of the ecosystem–"

"And also that if you destroy the trees, you'll destroy the fairies," Humbert added.

"Yes, but who would think to do something so... so foolish?" Edmund scoffed. "You cannot drive a whole species to extinction. It's... It's unthinkable, that's what it is. We're talking ancient trees here–"

"Father, you've been studying the fairies for years," Humbert gently told him, "but the rest of us haven't. If you tell people this sort of thing, all they will take from this is the chance to eliminate the fairies." He chuckled uneasily. "You have your head so far into your books that I think you sometimes forget how the rest of the world works."

"I just cannot understand people's fear of the fairies."

"Maybe it's because they're dangerous?" Humbert prompted with a slight smile. "The smaller fairies are notoriously venomous."

"The 'notorious' part is mostly down to rumours," his father muttered. "Very few fairies actually carry venom capable of endangering a human. And, even so, there's ample evidence that indicates they only bite in self-defence. We have snakes in the forest that are more dangerous than them! As for the larger fairies, well... if we don't bother them, they won't bother us."

"Strange words coming from the man who helped our king defeat the last gryphon."

"The times have changed."

"Why? What makes you believe that anything is different since you were my age? We still have fairies infesting this place. My generation may have been raised in a time without gryphons, but we were still raised on their stories. People are still afraid of the fairies."

"Perhaps I should have been more specific," Edmund said. "I meant _I_ have changed."

Humbert was silent. His eyes and fingers trailed over one of the books littering his father's desk. "Why?" he asked again. "Why are you so intent on learning about fairies, Father? Every other person I know views them with fear and hatred."

"That's exactly why I must learn. People only fear what they do not understand. Hatred and fear are sprung up from ignorance, but if people come to accept that fairies are no more evil than... well, us, then perhaps both sides of the forest can be happy."

"Do you really think that's true?" Humbert asked. "That they're not dangerous?"

"I didn't say that. Only that they are not inherently malevolent creatures. If we treat them like pests to be exterminated, we will only reap what we sow."

"Do you think that you were wrong, then? In helping to kill the last gryphon?"

It was Edmund's turn to fall silent this time. "It's... complicated," he finally said. "Your mother and I... We did not expect it to turn out this way."

"If you had the chance to do it all over again, would you?"

Blue eyes abruptly met green. "It's too late to undo our mistakes now," Edmund slowly said. "I've come to accept that. There are some things that you can never change."

"True," Humbert agreed. ' _But things are changing now_.' He started towards the door with the cold tea balanced precariously in one hand.

"Where are you going?" Edmund called.

"Out."

ooOoo

It was more through pure luck than any orienteering skill that led him to stumble across the gryphon's plateau again. The tide was out again, but it looked like high tide never rolled far up the raised plateau; inside the cave the gryphon would remain comfortably dry. That was assuming that the gryphon was still here. It had been a whole day since he had last visited – perhaps it had escaped since then.

He clambered down to the ledge he had slipped off the first time, and carefully took a seat. This time he had come prepared, with some sweet bread and one of his father's empty notebooks. His father kept a shelf of notebooks ready to be filled with newly-acquired research and had always been generous in passing a few onto his son. Today might be the day Humbert actually began filling in their blank pages.

Of course, all this preparation was going to be in vain if the gryphon was gone.

Would he be relieved or disappointed if that were the case? He wasn't sure.

Something moved on the plateau below and Humbert's attention snapped away from the sweet bread he was idly picking from and onto the gryphon. It emerged from the cave and took a seat at the plateau's edge. Its wing lagged from the double-injury he had incurred, and the paws were rawer than ever. Despite all this, it was still an intimidating creature – however, with wings that could no longer fly, it would be easy prey if found by other humans.

And if other people found it and learnt that he had known of its existence without reporting it...

He shook the troubling thoughts away and opened up a notebook. With an untrained eye, Humbert began to sketch out a rough outline of the beast before him. Books on gryphons were rare – even his father struggled to find complete information on the creatures – because so few people had ever come close enough to one to accurately detail them. Or so the stories went. The books he had seen had almost always portrayed the winged fairies as nightmare monsters; as abominations of teeth and claws.

And yet... here was a gryphon before him, almost looking like a (albeit huge) cat stretched out in the sun. It was enough to make him wonder.

Its uninjured wing was stretched out across the plateau, absorbing every last drop of the summer sunshine, while its other continued to be bent awkwardly at its side. Humbert's eyes travelled over the latter, and another surge of guilt shifted through him. He had done that.

Twice.

"Pull yourself together, Humbert," he muttered under his breath. Guilt from the injury, guilt from keeping the secret from his friends and family... If he kept it up any longer, that leaden feeling was going to move in permanently. He dropped his attention back to his drawing to distract himself. No good would do of beating himself up over this. He couldn't change the past. Only the present.

The only real question right now was, which way did he want to swing the future?

The scratching of his pencil must have caught the creature's ear, for there was a huff from his drawing's subject, and when he next looked up he saw its head had shifted to watch him. It gave a warning growl, and Humbert was quietly relieved he hadn't brought any weapons with him this time.

Upon perceiving that he was only here to scratch charcoal into his pad, the gryphon rolled its head back, although one eye remained warily open.

"I'm not a threat," Humbert mumbled. Whether or not it could hear him, he didn't know. But he felt better for saying it. "I'm not a threat, don't mind me... Don't... mind me... at all..." He continued to pick at the sweet bread and, as he broke off a particularly large chunk, the gryphon's attention immediately fixated on him again. It rose uneasily to its feet and rambled over to the cliff's side. Just as Humbert was beginning to feel the first surges of panic, it sat down on the plateau below and watched him with plainly plaintive eyes.

"What?" he asked. "What do you want? To let you out? I can't. It's bad enough I know you're here without reporting it to anyone," he said, gesturing with the bread for emphasis. "If I let you free then I'm putting the whole town at risk and who knows what kind of trouble I'm going to get in for–"

He paused as he finally took note of the way the creature's eyes faithfully followed the sweet bread he was carelessly waving about.

"Oh. Are... Are you hungry?"

The gryphon gave a frustrated groan and pawed at the cliff. That would be a yes.

' _I guess... it wouldn't hurt to give you a little piece..._ ' he thought. He dropped down the chunk he had broken off earlier. The gryphon snatched it out of the air with a decisive snap of its jaws. Humbert received a rather clear view of the wicked array of teeth lining its mouth. He swallowed nervously and hoped he wouldn't have a personal experience with them any time soon.

The gryphon licked at its lips and looked back up to him expectantly.

"Oh... You've got a sweet tooth, huh?" Should faeries even eat something like sweet bread? He knew there were some foods you definitely didn't give to dogs, but did fairy-cat creatures count? He had to hope the fairy-humanoid side was the more potent one. "Well, I hope you know what you're doing." He tore off another handful of the bread and tossed it to the creature. It snapped it up with the same abandon as before and quickly returned its begging.

"You're worse than the seagulls," Humbert muttered, and threw the rest down.

The gryphon, with the remaining loaf caught in its jaws, gave him an insulted look. Humbert chuckled at the response, but then the humour dried up.

"Wait, can you... understand me...?" The smaller fairies were able to speak – and usually chose to express themselves rather impolitely – but they were far from intelligent; their sentences were stinted and simple. One could not hold a conversation with a brownie or imp, not that one would ever wish to. If you were close enough to a fairy to talk, you were probably close enough for it to bite.

However, what about the larger fairies – could this creature be rationalised with? It had spared his life, after all, and gryphons were said to be much more than ordinary fairies. Still, it had yet to say a word, preferring to vocalise its thoughts in the form of animal sounds.

The fairy snorted at his question and turned its back on him, sitting back down to chew its way through the sweet bread. The delicious, delicious sweet bread. Humbert was starting to wish he had kept a little more for himself.

He watched the gryphon for a little longer, sparing as much time as he could to continue with his sketches. Once finished on the sweet bread, the gryphon retreated higher up the plateau and sprawled in the sunshine, where it gave into sleep. From it was coming a strange rumble of sorts – a content purr in its slumber.

"Guess it's time I take my leave then," Humbert murmured. He finished off his latest sketch and rose cautiously back to his feet – there was no need to do a repeat of last time. He felt strangely flattered by the fact that it had felt secure enough to rest in his presence. After his last encounter, he wouldn't have blamed it for still wanting to tear him apart.

As he dropped his notebook back into his bag, his hand brushed against something amid the collection of sweet bread crumbs gathering at the bottom. A knife.

He hesitated.

He had originally rationalised the knife as a tool for slicing the loaf, but in reality there was no need to bring one so sharp for that. A dulled bread knife would have more than done the job. No. He would be lying if he didn't admit it had been a precaution. In the last hour he had completely forgotten about its presence, but now his finger wrapped idly around the blade.

He could still undo his actions.

Kill the beast now, and none would have to be any the wiser that he had let it live up to this point. He wasn't great with weapons, but the already-injured creature was sleeping now. This was a golden opportunity. A well-aimed lucky blow could keep it down for the count. He could take its wings back as trophies – be seen by all as more than just the son of the Baron and Baroness. He could exceed their long shadows. His parents had helped with the previous gryphon, but he – Humbert von Gikkingen – would be the young noble who had single-handedly slain a gryphon. He could–

He sighed, releasing the breath he hadn't realised he had been holding up to then. His fingers loosened and the knife dropped back into the depths of the bag. No. He couldn't.

He pushed the weapon deeper and turned his back on the gryphon. It was still sleeping, blissfully oblivious to his momentary change of heart. Blissfully unaware that he had just entertained the thought of killing it and stripping it of its wings.

And they called the fairies the monsters...

His hand caught on his notebook and, in a sudden fit of clumsiness, it slipped out. He yelped and swung for it, but it was already bouncing off the ledge edge and dropping solidly down onto the gryphon's plateau.

"Oh, no..."

The fairy flinched at the thud and twisted out of its sleep. It gave the human an irritated look for disturbing it, but then its brown eyes focused on the cause of the thunk. It padded over to the slumped sketchbook, sniffed it with its feline muzzle, and glanced to the wide-eyed human. It dropped its gaze to the book, nudging a page open with its nose and coming face-to-face with a sketched likeness of itself. Again, Humbert found himself the attention of the beast, its head tilted curiously to one side.

And then it stepped back.

It gave the book an overt yard's grace and gave Humbert a clear look.

He found his breath hitching in his throat. His heart had doubled in pace as he battled between what he wanted to do and what he knew would be the smart thing. If he went down there, he would no longer be protected from its jaws or claws. He rubbed his chest to remind himself of the bruises that still lingered from their first meeting.

And yet... he was tempted.

The way the gryphon sat, paws tucked in and wings swept back, indicated it was doing its best to appear unthreatening. Humbert knew that all fairies had two forms – their feline one and their human one – so he was still aware that it wasn't relax enough to change into a human form. But... it was trying.

"You're crazy," he whispered. "I'm crazy. This... is crazy."

He hitched the bag over one shoulder and swung his legs over the ledge. Suddenly, those four metres seemed like a bottomless pit. The cliff wall below him was smooth and impossible to climb down by; he was either going to have to jump or slide down.

Or he could get up and leave his sketchbook. It was, after all, incriminating evidence.

"I'm crazy," he repeated, and slid down the edge.

He landed with all the dignity of a drunk dog, landing on his feet but then finding his legs were so shocked by the sudden addition of weight that they gave way beneath him. Or, his left leg did first, quickly followed by his right and so his collapse to the rocky ground was somewhat one-sided. He lay on the uncomfortable ground for several seconds, wondering whether he was about to experience the inside of a gryphon any moment now.

When it didn't happen, he slowly sat back up. The gryphon hadn't moved, but its ears were flicking back and forth in battling nervousness and – he suspected – amusement. It tilted its head to one side as if to ask, _How did humans survive so long if they're all like you?_

"Don't say a word," he muttered.

The head tilted to the other direction and the ears flickered back in confusion. Or that's how he read it, anyway. He had had little experience with cats, and so their emotional cues were all but foreign to him. He leant forward and carefully – never taking his eyes off the gryphon – curled his fingers around the dropped sketchbook. He pulled it towards him.

The gryphon stepped closer.

He stopped. The gryphon stopped.

Humbert raised one eyebrow and started to slowly pull the book towards him. The gryphon followed it at the same painstakingly sluggish pace. He stopped and so did the gryphon. He could see the tail swinging from side-to-side behind it. If he didn't know better, he would say it was almost a playful manner. He abruptly snatched up the sketchbook and pulled it to his chest. The gryphon jumped forward and stopped a mere half-metre from the human.

Both froze.

His heart was hammering out a wild beat, but Humbert's breath came out calm and shallow. He was mildly aware his jaw had slackened and he was probably staring up at the creature with his mouth embarrassingly open. He slowly closed it, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the gryphon that was staring down at him.

The eyes of the gryphon were human, dark and deep and far from feline. While the feline body language was foreign, the eyes weren't. He could read curiosity – curiosity that mirrored his own – and overt confusion in those depths. Perhaps it was as confused by his mercy as he was by its.

He raised a hand slowly to its muzzle.

It twisted away, but then dropped its head down to the sketchbook. It nudged at the pages and then looked back to Humbert with an expectant air. The ears flicked forward and Humbert was sure that it signified interest.

Humbert chuckled dryly, his throat drying up from the nerves. He carefully shifted the sketchbook back into his grip and opened up a new page.

"So you want another portrait, huh?" he murmured.

As he began to start anew, the pencil seemed to take on a life of its own, mesmerised by the detail of the face and the strangeness of the situation. He didn't dare stop, for who knew whether it would turn aggressive if he refused to draw it. The lead filled in the strong feline jaw, the ruffle of fur about its head, the dark nose so close to him. The mouth was difficult to define; whatever he drew, the mouth came out disapproving or intimidating, and so eventually he settled on a small mark where it should be.

He thought he might equally struggle with the ears – they were always moving – but it took only a single go before he had sketched out the long, furry ears, one straining forward, the other flicked to the side. Curious, he felt, but cautious.

It summed up the both of them.

When it came to the eyes, the only difficulty was with tearing his own gaze away long enough to draw them in. He had sketched Louise before and soon it became apparent that much of the same aspects were being applied to the gryphon's dark brown orbs.

He slowed as he filled in the last few features of the face, and a satisfying glow of pride grew inside him. It was a good first up-close attempt. In fact, he realised with a duel mixture of unease and amazement, it was probably the most detailed drawing of a gryphon in existence. He pushed back the feelings and turned the portrait to the gryphon. "There you are."

The ears did a mad dance and Humbert fervently hoped it was in approval. Then, to his shock, a low vibrating noise rumbled up from the pit of the creature's stomach. Did cats do this? Was it good or bad? He scooted back, just in case he was in immediate danger of being eaten. Muta and Toto's stories from the day before came back to him.

The gryphon stopped its strange rumbling, and the ears flicked to the side in evident confusion. It seemed bewildered by Humbert's reaction.

A wet splash echoed across the plateau and the moment was broken as the gryphon spun to face it. Humbert was already forgotten. He followed its gaze and spotted a fish that had beached itself on the rocky shore below the plateau; the tide was low and coming in, leading one unlucky fish to severely misjudge the tide's strength and now it flopped about helplessly on the barnacled rocks.

The gryphon leapt immediately to the plateau's edge and watched the pathetic creature struggle. Its tail swung eagerly behind it, but it didn't jump down to the rocky pools below, even with the mere metre drop. Humbert watched as the gryphon lowered its front paws down and tried to grab the fish without dropping down onto the rock pools. Its paws scrabbled on the drop, scrapping at the rock for a hold while its wings rose up into the air to counterbalance it.

Before he knew what he was doing, Humbert had rose to his feet and walked over to the creature's side. He watched its desperate attempt to reel in the fish and, for the first time, he noticed the ribs showing clearly from its side. "You really can't abide saltwater, can you?" he whispered.

The gryphon either didn't hear him or ignored him, but Humbert could see the truth of his words. The red, raw paws were from simply walking on the salt-encrusted plateau – now, he could make out that the tips of the wings and the underbelly were similarly affected by contact with salt and he understood why it hadn't just swum free. Pity rose up in him and suddenly he found himself dropping down onto the rocky shore. He heard the gryphon stop struggling and could feel its gaze fixed on his back.

He approached the pathetic fish and hoisted it up. It feebly struggled against his grip, but it was going to die soon if it didn't get back into the water anyway. "Sorry," he murmured, and he whacked it into the rocks, stunning it instantly. He looked back to the gryphon and, sure enough, its dark eyes were staring into him.

Humbert returned to the plateau's edge and clambered back up. He dropped the fish down before the gryphon, like a sort of gruesome offering. The gryphon's eyes flickered to the fish, and then to him. A moment later, when Humbert remembered its aversion to salt and washed it clean with some of his drinking water, the gryphon's eyes just bugged even larger. Like the creature had done with his sketchbook, he lowered the fish to the ground and gave it a metre-wide berth.

It slowly approached the fish. When it was close enough to grab, it snatched the fish up in its jaws and swallowed it whole. A low, hungry rumble rolled from its stomach, but that strange vibrating rumble quickly followed. Humbert started to wonder whether that noise was one of pleasure, not of warning.

The beast looked back to him and the gratitude was readable, even to him. It gingerly stepped up to him and rubbed its furry head against his arm. The same strange rumbling vibrated from its throat and when Humbert slowly stroked behind its ears the content sound only amplified.

"I'm sorry," he said, scratching it behind the ears. "But I have to go." He stepped away from it and began heading back to the passageway hidden inside the cave. The gryphon followed him. To his surprise, the iron gate seemed untouched and the bolt was still drawn. The tunnels might have been a tight fit, but the gryphon could have easily broken the gate and escaped if it wanted. So why hadn't it?

In pulling the bolt free and in tugging the rusted door open, the gryphon backed away. He swung it behind him and shifted the bolt back into its slot, and still the gryphon kept its distance. He could see its all-too-human eyes watching him in the shadowed darkness. He hesitated, his fingers playing over the bolt.

The gryphon's gaze trailed over the action.

It would be easy. He could open the door without a second thought, stand back, and let the gryphon run free. He could see it was waiting for his decision. For some reason, it couldn't pass by these iron gates unless he cleared the way for it, which meant... this was his choice.

" _Dangerous and lethal..._ "

" _Prone to attacking without cause..._ "

" _Unable to reason with, and people should not be encouraged to try so..._ "

" _In case of meeting such a creature, the only option of securing survival is to... kill it..._ "

He pulled his hand away.

" _The only good gryphon is a dead gryphon._ "

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "But you're still too dangerous."

He turned before he could see the hurt in the gryphon's eyes. Yes, it was docile and almost tame now, but what would happen when he released it? If this were all a ploy, could he deal with being the reason a monster escaped to wreak havoc on the town?

"I'll come back," he promised. "But I'm going to help you. Just trust me."

' _I'm too deep now anyway_.'


	4. Into The Forest

"Toto? Toto, can I talk to you for a moment?" Humbert ducked between the beams as he made his way across the carpenter's workshop that evening, taking care not to disturb the half-completed projects scattering the desk. While Toto had no intention of becoming a carpenter, he wasn't against helping his father with the work. Humbert located the dark-haired man by the gentle glow of a lamp. Toto was sanding down a chair with one hand and reading notes on medicine with the other. "Are you free?"

"I'm free for a talk, if you're quick," Toto mumbled. "What's up?"

Humbert took a seat on the edge of a wooden stall. He watched Toto work on the chair with movements that betrayed just how innate the skill was etched into him, all while he read through one of the books he had bought the day before.

"You read up a little on avian morphology when you first started researching being a healer, didn't you?"

"A little," Toto echoed. "Why?"

"What would you do with a bird with a broken wing?"

Toto paused in his work to glance to the young noble. " _Have_ you got a bird with a broken wing?"

"Not exactly... It's more like research."

His friend raised a single eyebrow but didn't question further. "Well, it depends on the type of break – some wing breaks won't ever heal, in which case you'll have to question whether it was going to survive without flight. But," he added, seeing Humbert ready to intercede, "if you are able to help, then the most important thing is to bind it. Secure it against the body in its natural position, wrapping the binds around the body and under the healthy wing. Like I said, however, it might be that the bird will never fly again." He looked into his friend's face. "Are you sure this is just research?"

"It's just curiosity."

Toto was silent for a long moment. Then, "You should be careful that your curiosity doesn't get you into trouble," he warned softly. "Ever since your light display with the gryphon, the older generation – those who remember the last one – have been set on edge. Stories of something in the forest are cropping up and Louise said that her father has set extra guards about the town. You don't want to be forming a sudden interest in gryphons."

"There are always stories," Humbert returned.

"There aren't always extra guards. They say the forest has been livelier than usual–"

Humbert thought to his recent visits to the gryphon. "Says who? If you ask me, people are just jittery. What are we in? The dark ages? A little bit of curiosity never killed anyone," Humbert said, but even as the words escaped his mouth, a little voice added, ' _But harbouring a gryphon might..._ '

"I'm just saying, Humbert. Be careful."

"Thanks, but I don't plan on getting into any trouble." ' _I don't plan on getting caught, anyway._ '

"Humbert."

The young noble halted in leaving, and reluctantly returned to his friend's side. Toto's tone was not encouraging.

"What is it?"

"Seriously, be careful. Louise dropped by earlier. She's worried about you."

A fresh surge of guilt surged through Humbert. "She is? Why?"

"You've been seen going in and out of that forest almost constantly since the festival began–"

"It's only been twice," Humbert muttered. Why did he have to live in such a nosy town?

Toto fixed his friend with a blunt stare and pushed the half-finished chair away from him. "And how long have you spent in that forest? Hours? Humbert, what are you doing there? It's not normal for a human. People are beginning to talk."

"My mother needs herbs for her work–"

"You and I both know that she grows the majority of what she needs in the garden. If you keep on spending time in the forest, that excuse is going to quickly run dry. And, as you said, people are jittery."

"Toto, what exactly are you accusing me of?"

"I don't know. And that's what's worrying me." He turned away, bringing the chair back towards him as he turned his attention to finishing the task. "Secrecy does not become you, Humbert."

The young noble hesitated. "I'm sorry."

"You know, usually when someone apologises they are promising to change their behaviour," Toto said dryly. "Do you?"

"I... I'm sorry. But I have to–"

"Just don't get caught, whatever it is. There are some things even Louise won't be able to get you out of. Speaking of, Louise wanted to know whether you'd be up for a date this evening at the Jay's Nest. Seven thirty. She asked me to pass that on to you if I saw you, since you've been so hard to pin down the last few days."

"I... Sure. Tell her that I'll see her there."

"You're not going to tell her yourself?"

"I made a promise to someone. I made a mistake, Toto, and now I need to remedy it."

"You're going back there, aren't you? _After everything I've said?_ "

Humbert began hurrying out of the workshop, now armed with the new knowledge at his disposal. "I know. And I'm sorry. But I have to do this." He paused by a collection of spare wooden poles and his mind flittered over an idea. "Toto, could I–?"

His friend scoffed. "Sure. You always do what you want anyway."

"I'll make this up to you."

"Good luck with that."

ooOoo

The scramble down to the gryphon's plateau was somewhat hindered by the addition of the wooden pole that seemed to get stuck in every branch, bough, and fairy tree vine, but make it to the coastline he did. Upon coming to the cliff edge, he tossed the stick onto the level below and climbed down after it. By the time he reached the plateau, the gryphon was out and sniffing curiously at the stake.

Humbert started towards the staff, coming within touching distance of it before he realised he had just obliviously walked right up to one of the most dangerous creatures on the planet. He hesitated, coming to a conclusion of just how blasé he was becoming around the beast, and then grinned nervously and bent to retrieve the pole.

The gryphon snatched it up.

Humbert paused. He moved to take the stick back, but the gryphon jumped away, stick in mouth like a particularly proud dog. He chuckled and tried to coax it back.

"Come on... Come here, kitty... For goodness sake, I'm trying to do you a kindness."

The gryphon sat at the other end of the plateau, stick still in mouth and tail playfully flicking from side-to-side. As Humbert neared, it deliberately backed away, skipping over its paws.

' _Alright. Two can play at that game._ ' Humbert turned away and purposefully sat down, legs crossed and back to the creature. He swung his bag to his side and dragged out his father's notebook. In the process, he pulled out a few of the bandages he had liberated from his mother's office. The young noble began to sketch – he was getting better now with the lines coming almost naturally to the paper – and found himself humming a cheerful little ditty.

It took only a few minutes for him to hear the padded footfall of the gryphon's approach. He continued to sketch as if he didn't notice his audience until a gryphon-shaped shadow fell over him. There was a brief grin on his part and then he abruptly spun around and latched a hand onto the staff.

It wasn't going to be that easy though. The gryphon's first instinctive reaction was to jolt back in shock, and then its eyes narrowed. It propped itself onto its back legs, dragging the stick – and the attached Humbert – up off the ground, and now Humbert was treading air with his face inches from the gryphon's.

The gryphon gave a long, slow smirk.

"H-Hello..."

It snorted and then trotted over to the plateau's ledge. The smirk only widened as it held the stick – and Humbert – over the edge. The drop was only a metre or so, with the water rolling in below to promise a soft landing, but he quickly decided he didn't want a dunking. He swung from the pole and managed to leap back onto the plateau. The gryphon swung round – and promptly smacked the stick into Humbert's head.

He must have only blacked out for a second or so, for the next thing he was aware of was the furred face of the gryphon peering at him. He started to push himself up, but the creature nudged him worriedly. He shoved its nose away. "I'm fine." He laughed and added, "Seriously, I'm fine," when it nudged him again. "Get off."

It backed away, picking up the dropped staff and placing it before him. It lay back down, ears pinned back in guilt and eyes wide.

"Apology accepted," Humbert said with a laugh. He took the stick back, retrieved his dropped bag, and returned to the side of the gryphon. "Now, good gryphon, I hope you won't mind if I bind your wing to help it heal," he explained. He added a murmured, "Please don't bite me."

The creature's eyes widened further, but it obediently shifted to allow him access to the injured wing. As Humbert took the broken limb in his hands, the creature winced but didn't retaliate. He started to attach the pole to the broken bone, moving the wing to rest against its body and bandage it up. The sheer power in the creature's muscles were strong enough that – even with a bone broken – a single wingbeat could probably snap his neck.

With that in mind, he took exaggerated care.

"You're going to have to stand now," he said when he decided he had done as much as he could manage with it sitting. Again, it silently followed through with the orders, looking back quizzically at him. He brought out another roll of bandages and, pinning it in place, began to wind it around its entire body – which was probably a more feasible task when dealing with house sparrows, not with very large gryphons. So this task consisted of him throwing the bandage roll over the gryphon's body, moving round to its other side, throwing the bandages under, temporarily pinning it in place on the injured wing, and starting the whole process again.

Eventually, the gryphon had had enough. When Humbert came back around to do the third bind, the uninjured wing gently pushed him away. It dropped its head to the bandage roll dangling from its back, carefully took the roll in its teeth, and threw it back to him. Humbert caught it more from instinct than considered action.

"Well. That makes it easier."

The gryphon gave a feline grin and prepared to catch the bindings again. Working together, it took barely five minutes before Humbert was pinning the end of the bandages to its side, securing the wing until it could fly again. He stepped back to admire their work.

"It may not look fantastic, but it'll do the job," he assessed. The gryphon twisted back its head to see the result, giving again that strange rumbling of pleasure. It rambled up to him, rubbing its head against his palm and the rumbling sound intensified. Humbert chuckled lightly and scratched behind the creature's ear; it leant into the action and Humbert had to brace himself against the weight of the gryphon.

"You're not so terrifying," he murmured. "What's so bad about you guys anyway?"

The gryphon made a crooning sound that seemed to be in agreement. It leant further into him as he scratched behind its ear, and Humbert began to struggle with the weight against him. There was a thump, a flurry of feathers, and a yelp as his legs gave way, quickly followed by the gryphon.

"Gah! Get off me, you great hairy beast!" He tried to push himself out from under it, to no success. It snorted at his attempts, but rolled off him, accidentally batting him with its wing as it went. Humbert ungainly sat back up, glowering at the beast as it did its best not to snicker at him. He rubbed at his side where the wing had grazed hm. "I take it back. You're a menace."

The gryphon grinned and rose to its feet. For the first time since Humbert had come across the trapped creature, it was able to properly rest both wings against its body. The weight balance must have made a difference, for it started as it realised the change and started to leap happily about the plateau. Every jump was secure and sure and Humbert glimpsed the grace at which such creatures must usually operate at.

Humbert bit back a laugh and settled down on the stony floor. He picked his discarded notebook – now a little salt-encrusted – and started with a new sketch. He jotted down what he had learnt about gryphons in the time he had spent here; their salt-aversion, their agility, their... humanity. As he continued with his sketch, raindrops began to fall.

He sighed, knowing he would have to bring the drawing to an unfinished halt, and glanced up to where his model had gone. Only now, it had vanished. Probably retreated to the cave, he supposed, like any sane creature. He was just about to close the book when a familiar shadow fell over him. He glanced up.

The gryphon sat beside him, its uninjured wing raised to shield him from the rain. It, on the other hand, didn't seem to care about the weather change. It was probably just relieved to feel fresh water on its face. It chuffed at him, signalling for him to continue.

"As you wish."

With the creature now beside him, he was forced to recount the image from memory – but that wasn't too hard. His picture had already captured the movement and energy of the beast; all he had to do now was fill in the details. On the page before him, the gryphon was caught in a moment of pure happiness, leaping from one paw to another and its tail playfully flicking out behind it. After some consideration, he added the stick held between sharp teeth, adding in more of the mischievous spark into the eyes.

A crooning sound that denoted approval and humour issued from the creature by his side. It dipped its head to the picture, dripping raindrops as it went. Humbert shifted the notebook away before it could inadvertently ruin his drawing, nudging the beast's side as warning.

It nudged back.

Humbert closed the book and nudged harder.

The gryphon nudged _significantly_ harder back.

Humbert scrabbled to retain his balance, but, even with all his efforts, he still toppled sideways and hit the stony ground with an uncomfortable thud. He groaned and the gryphon appeared immediately at his side, coming into his line of vision with that same expression of worry and apology flickering through its gaze. Mutely, it raised a wing above him to ward off the oncoming rain again.

Humbert lightly kicked at its legs and then pushed himself back up, chuckling slightly. "You've got to watch your strength. You're a lot stronger than I am." He glanced past the wing to see the sky beyond. "Anyway, it's getting late so I really should be going..."

The gryphon gave a sad little whine.

Humbert chuckled again and patted the creature's side. "I'm sorry, but I really do have to go. I just came..." His eyes dropped to the now-bound wing. "I came to help."

With its ears flickering back in apprehension, the gryphon gave another unhappy whimper and then grabbed the boot that had lightly kicked at it earlier. It ignored Humbert's protests as it shook his foot loose and stole the boot away. That got him hobbling back to his feet, leaping forward for the snatched footwear and missing it by a mile as the creature lifted it coolly out of reach.

Humbert stared at the boot above his head, and then raised an eyebrow at the fairy. "I really do have to go, you know. So I guess I'll just leave without my boot then. Here's me, walking bootless." He headed into the cave, limping slightly, with the gryphon following silently behind.

To his surprise, the creature kept its distance as it trailed along, waiting right until he had reached the iron gate before shortening the distance. Again, it was careful to avoid the door swinging open.

Mutely, it dropped the boot onto the ground.

"Thank you."

Humbert gathered up the footwear, but the gryphon took no advantage of his lapse in concentration. Despite being stuck in the plateau, it made no attempt to run for the open gate. It could have easily pushed past him and fled for the open area beyond him.

But it didn't.

Humbert fitted the boot back onto his foot and glanced up to the sad, solemn stare of the gryphon. He smiled sadly back. "Go on." He nodded to the tunnel. "It'll take you right back to the forest above. I think it's time you went home, don't you?"

The gryphon froze. Its eyes travelled over the darkness inside, and then shifted back to Humbert. There was an almost tangible mixture of distrust and hope in its all-too-human eyes as it took the first step towards its freedom. But then it turned back to him and nudged him gently.

"Go on," Humbert laughed. He grinned, but the smile wavered. "Go on," he repeated again, softer this time. "It's time to go home."

The gryphon stared at him for a few seconds longer, and then it bounded up to him, rubbing its head against his arms with a redoubling purr. He received a friendly nudge and then it was disappearing into the darkness of the tunnel, leaving the human far behind.

Humbert stared into the shadows. He listened to the fading pawsteps.

"Charming."

He slowly made the walk back up the tunnel, feeling his way through the darkness and berating himself for the foolishness of thinking that the gryphon wasn't just using him as means to an end. But as he finally stepped out into the light, a familiar form was waiting for him.

The gryphon was sat on the grass, its undamaged wing spread out to the sun's rays and soaking in the warmth. Upon seeing his arrival, it tucked its wing back and scampered over to the human. Humbert raised his hands as he swiftly realised the momentum it was carrying. "Wait – no, no – no!" It bounded into him regardless and he found himself flattened down by the huge paws of the beast – which, he was grateful for, were being very careful not to squash him. The gryphon lowered its head and made that same rumbling noise as it rubbed its cheek against his.

"Yes... Yes, it's good to see you too..." he murmured weakly. He scratched under its chin and its general air of contentment just amplified tenfold. "If only my friends could see me now..."

The gryphon released him and bounded towards the treeline. It hesitated, and then looked back as Humbert rose unsteadily to his feet. It cocked its head, and then nodded pointedly in the direction of the thick forest.

"Actually, I was just planning on heading home," Humbert apologised, "but I'll come back another – whoa!" He started as the gryphon rounded behind him and nudged him forward. "Okay... I get the hint. I'm coming." The gryphon chuffed its approval and slunk into the forest; it glanced back every now and then to ensure its human companion was following behind.

"I'm following, I'm following."

Humbert could have claimed that he was following merely because he had been given little choice on the matter, but that would be a straight-out lie; more than anything, he was curious. It was, after all, what had got him into this mess. He was nothing if not consistent. He was led through old forest paths, along animal trails and walkways, natural routes made by nature. He was led deeper and deeper into the wood; deeper than he had ever gone and into land he had little knowledge of. The deep forest was said to house the worst of the fairies – the most powerful, the most dangerous, the most deadly...

And still he followed.

Here, the red-berried, red-rose trees grew in abundance. What were usually sickly-looking trees on the edge were blooming and bright here in the deep forest. Humbert was more than aware that he was walking past them with an open mouth. The gryphon glanced back and grinned at his amazement.

The trees were alive with the chatter of creatures – fairies, Humbert was sure. He slowed his pace and watched as dozen of tiny fairies jumped between the branches, scattering dark green leaves onto the walkers. The gryphon raised its head to the sky, watching the creatures with a fond air. Its intact wing rustled with anticipation.

Humbert placed a hand on the creature's back and felt the anticipation shiver through it. Abruptly, it bound away from him and up to the biggest tree Humbert had ever seen in his life. It was as wide as the whole length of the gryphon's body and towered into the sky. He slowly followed his guide, gaping up at the gigantic creation.

There was a thump to his left.

He looked to see the gryphon picking itself up from the ground and he couldn't quite work out the cause. But then the creature pushed itself to its paws and made a running jump for the lowest branches of the tree. It missed and slammed into the trunk instead. Its claws scrabbled into the bark and it attempted to claw its way to the branches.

There was the same thud and it hit the ground. Again.

Humbert watched it circle the tree and then attempt to scale it for the third time; when it landed with a flump of feathers and fur, he decided to intercede.

"You're never going to make it that way," he remarked idly. The creature gave him a death glare, but he thoroughly ignored it. Instead, he paced around the tree and tried to see up into the upper branches; they were hidden by the thick canopy of leaves and gave little clue as to what was so important about this particular plant. "You'll have to start on a lower tree and work up from there – like a squirrel."

The death glare intensified and Humbert could almost feel the indignity of being compared to a squirrel. He moved onto a smaller tree whose boughs were significantly lower than its neighbours. "What about this one?"

The gryphon's ears flickered and it reluctantly joined him; the ears flicked forward in interest when it saw the attainable branches. It crooned in approval and backed up; its tail swung to and fro as it readied itself for the run-up.

"You're welcome."

Humbert turned to move out of the way, but there was a whoosh of something running past him and then he was hoisted off his feet by the scruff of his shirt. The ground jumped away from him and he gave an ungainly yelp as he was dragged up to the first boughs of the tree. It may not have been as tall as its neighbour, but it was still tall enough for a good two metres to stretch down below him.

The gryphon gently placed him down on the thick branch and he curled himself around the trunk. The gryphon tilted its head to one side as it regarded his strange behaviour. Its eyes blinked innocently.

"Some... warning might have been... nice!" he gasped.

When he opened his eyes, the gryphon was still watching him with that same bemused air. It shuffled up to him and extended its uninjured wing towards him. The action was unmistakable. _Get on, human, unless you want to climb yourself_.

He looked up to the branches spiralling overhead, rustling with life and a forest breeze travelling through the leaves. He gulped. With two metres between him and the ground, it was still very possible to jump back down with minimal injury – and yet his curiosity rose up in him, like it did every time. "Drat and bother," he muttered, and clambered onto the back of the gryphon.

It gave a croon of approval and carefully shifted its balance on the wide branch.

It glanced back to Humbert and gave a wicked grin.

"Oh, no... Don't..."

The gryphon leapt into the air. Like the squirrel Humbert had compared it to, it bounded onto the branches above, scrabbling for purchase with its claws. Once balanced, it jumped to the next level, and the next, and the next... until its paws barely seemed to have landed before it spiralled up into the air again – it was the closest he had ever reached to flying. The gryphon nearly missed a particularly wide jump and Humbert was almost jolted from his seat. He grabbed the scruff of fur at its neck and hung on for dear life – not that the creature seemed to notice. A screaming laugh was ripped from his throat as he teetered between exhilaration and pure terror. The ground danced between them, swinging from side to side as if someone had just taken and shaken the world in a snow globe. Instead of fake snow, brilliant sun-soaked leaves twirled down from above.

The gryphon made a final leap and Humbert opened his eyes to see that they had come to a halt on a thick canopy of emerald-green leaves. The huge tree he had admired earlier was now supporting them and the red roses grew far larger than any he had ever seen before. The gryphon tilted its wing and he numbly slipped off its back. It padded over to one of the open roses and walked right into its dark centre; it was large enough to even take the winged cat.

Humbert watched it go – was just about to look in after it – when the huge petals shook and slowly the blossom closed in on itself. With the gryphon inside.

"What the–?"

He started towards the flower, but a small pack of fairies – all in their feline forms – dropped down from the branches above and placed themselves between him and it. They were no bigger than a small dog each, but they were still armed with teeth and claws and seemed quite adamant on blocking his way. He backed away, raising his hands in a pacifying gesture, and at the distance the fairies calmed.

"Alright, alright, I get it. No touchy the big fairy-eating plant. I get it." He sighed and sat down; the branches flattened out so much that it was more like a leafy carpet beneath him than branches. It seemed he was well and truly stuck for the time being. He would just have to trust that the gryphon knew what it was doing.

He had so far.

As the minutes passed by and Humbert battled back the panic, he slung his bag off his back and retrieved the familiar drawing apparatus. Well, he had to do something with his time. On a fresh page, he brought to life the tree the gryphon had brought him up into. A replicate of the beautiful – but puzzling – rose blossomed into dusty 2D lines across the paper.

Something nuzzled at his hand and he jolted away to see one of the fairies – still in feline form – pushing against his palm. "What do you want?" he murmured. It jostled towards his bag and Humbert saw that one had already succeeded in burrowing a curious head into his belongings. He put the drawings to one side and gently hoisted the creature away.

It reluctantly withdrew, and in the action brought out the paper bag that had once – but no more – contained the sweetbread that Humbert continued to pilfer from his home cupboard. Perhaps one of these days, he would actually get the chance to eat it himself. From the depths of the paper bag, the feline raised its head and looked curiously in the general direction of Humbert. A baffled meow echoed within.

"How did you even survive this long?" Humbert sighed, but took pity and freed it from its papery mask. Bright yellow, animal eyes stared back at him; it mewed again and struggled from his grip. He released it, but the fairy – instead of running off – turned back to him and licked affectionately at his wrist. Evidently, anyone who brought good food was alright in its book.

Something of this assessment was conveyed to the other fairies, for suddenly Humbert found himself as the resident pillow for half a dozen balls of fur. He sighed and continued on his sketching, later starting on the small fairies that slept around him. Eventually the daylight began to dwindle and the sky darkened as twilight drew in.

And under the star-studded sky, he found himself lulled into a gentle sleep, warmed by the purring fairy felines and secured by the carpet canopy below him.


	5. The World of the Fae

The summer sun rose early across the forest and eased Humbert back into the world of the waking. He pushed himself away from the tree trunk he had been leaning against and took stock of his surroundings. For several belated, confused moments, he struggled to recall the events of the night before and so couldn't conceive any possible situation that would have led him to wake up in the thick canopy of the wild fairy forest.

There was a creak and Humbert's attention was dragged to the huge flower that the gryphon had stepped into last evening. It seemingly had remained tightly closed throughout the night, but now its petals were ruffling. They started to slowly unfurl.

Humbert's memory of yesterday's events came back to him in a torrent of half-formed images. He staggered to his feet and tried not to think about the fatal distance between his feet and the ground.

"What...? Was I out... all night?"

His feet found their footing, and now he could feel that this layer of the canopy was made entirely of criss-crossing branches, so he really did seem to be walking on a carpet of leaves. And if it could support a gryphon, then – hopefully – it wouldn't have too much trouble with a lone human. Plus his sleeping entourage of small feline fairies.

The blossom rippled again and the petals shook themselves loose, falling back down to reveal the gryphon inside.

It padded out onto the canopy layer and, with its uncannily sharp teeth, tore the bandages loose from its side. Humbert started to protest, but then it released both wings from its side with enough force to awake a small gale. Its wings stretched out to the morning sky and all evidence of its previous wounds were gone.

Almost.

It abruptly hissed and withdrew its wings back into itself. A scar still ran across from where Humbert's arrow had hit, even though the night's rest appeared to have set everything else back into order. It twisted its head to inspect the remnant injury and gave an unsettled grumble.

Guilt hit Humbert. Again.

"I... I'm sorry about that..."

It looked back to him. It ambled over to him and he took a subconscious step back. As it neared him, its form began to glow and Humbert backed into the nearest tree trunk.

"Look – I really, thoroughly, truly, am sorry for what I did back there – I was scared, I didn't know..."

The gryphon's form continued to brighten until it was bathed in bubbling light; so bright Humbert could barely keep his eyes on the creature. The silhouette beneath the light suddenly dissolved and reappeared in an altogether different shape. It stepped from the light and a young woman smiled warily at the speechless human.

"Why... are you scared of me?"

Humbert's throat tightened and his eyes travelled across the strange being, from her human gaze, to her tattered and wild clothes, and finally to the wings still gathered at her back. Of course, he knew all fairies had a humanoid form, but he had never imagined... "You're... You're _human_ – I mean..." He bit back a curse and stumbled into a, "I'm sorry," again.

The fairy glanced back to her wings and flexed them slowly. "It'll... It'll be okay," she said. She didn't sound thoroughly convinced though. She shook her head and looked back to the human, dropping her face to one side to peer into his lowered gaze. Humbert was doing his best to keep his eyes on his shoes and not hyperventilate. "This... is a better reaction than I was hoping for, I suppose," she said. She gave a nervous laugh. "I had images of screaming and running, but I suppose you're not that type, huh?"

She hesitated when Humbert failed to reply, and then took a considerate step away. She passed her gaze over the canopy and added with a slightly sheepish air, "Although I guess you don't really have much choice in running. I... uh, I'm sorry about that. I wasn't thinking things through."

Coming to the gradual conclusion that the fairy wasn't enraged over her still-injured wing, Humbert trailed his gaze away from his feet and took another look at the human-like creature.

She was a few inches shorter than him, which startled him a little – he had become very accustomed to the gryphon dwarfing him in her feline form – and she bounced on her toes to regain the lost height. If it were not for the wings or the ragged clothes, she could have easily been mistaken for being... well, simply human.

It also hadn't occurred to him that she might be a... _she_.

The fairy leaned towards him, with a lopsided smile lighting her features. "You're not much of a talker now, are you? What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" She barked a laugh at her own joke.

"I... I'm sorry. This is all... still quite new to me. It's a lot to take in."

The gryphon's smile lessened, changing mirth for sympathy, and she stepped away. "Sorry. This is all new to me too." She eased onto her toes again to peer at the young man. "I've never been so close to a human before..." She rocked back onto her heels and extended a hand. "The name's Haru."

"Baron Humbert von Gikkingen," Humbert offered. The title wasn't really his yet, but he felt better adding it. The woman made a face.

"Ick. That's a mouthful. Well then, Baron–"

"It's Humbert."

She made that same face again. "But you said your name was Baron–"

"It's a title."

"What's a title?"

"It's... not a name. It's like a pre-name to show my status. Like being a king or earl or suchlike; it's a show of my nobility." The gryphon opened her mouth – presumably to ask what nobility meant – and he added, "Nobility is a certain class."

"I don't think I understand."

"Don't you have a... a hierarchy?" he asked. "Like a certain order of... importance? A king or queen or something?"

The gryphon's gaze darkened. "Like your king?"

Too late, Humbert remembered the stories of how their monarch had slain the 'last' gryphon not twenty years prior. "Okay, bad example. Don't worry about it – just... just call me Baron if you want." ' _I suppose it's an improvement on Humbert..._ '

"I like Baron better. Could you do me a favour?" Haru – it was still strange to attach such a simple name to a gryphon – turned her tender wing to face the human, where a few tendrils of bandage still retained tied around her, despite her earlier efforts. "I could really do with getting this off."

"S-Sure... but are you sure you don't want it bandaged up again–?"

She shook her head decisively. "There's no real point. I just want them off, but I just... can't reach them." To demonstrate her dilemma, she reached back and fumbled clumsily at the bandages still circling her body and tied at the back. She huffed and looked back to the human with a raised eyebrow – and Humbert was immediately reminded of the gryphon she was. "Help? Please?"

"Alright. I've got it." The wings were as large now as they had been before, huge and strong, and probably still able to snap his neck with a wingbeat. He untied the knot he had secured and started to unwind the dressing. He felt the wings relax as the binding loosened and stole the chance to get a better look at the gryphon.

He had no experience with gauging fairy age, but from her human form he would say that she really was about his age – but what was to say that fairies didn't age slower than humans? The stories of the fae folk were so inconsistent that he had no idea what he should have been expecting. Some of his father's books spoke of the human-like fae being tall, breathtakingly-beautiful creatures in elegant robes of petals and spidersilk – none of which Haru had evidently read.

Her hair, dark brown like her fur and wings, was shorn short and practical, and smears of dirt and mossy-green stains covered her from the climb up. Her clothes looked like they had been stolen from the neighbouring human city, but then adapted and moulded by the forest she lived in. All in browns and greens, she looked like a feral runaway from the Robin Hood tales he had heard. She could have been simply a wild child, had it not been for the giant wings split from her back.

As the last of the bandages were unravelled, her wings stretched out again and batted the bindings away. Her injured wing seemed able to move gently without too much fuss, but she seemed reluctant to make any sudden movements. Or perhaps that was more due to his presence.

His thoughts were broken when she turned around to look back at him. "Thank you."

He drew his eyes reluctantly away from the wings. "For what?"

"For helping." She gently stroked at her tender wing. "You didn't have to."

"I was the one who shot you," he reminded her. Twice, his mind added, but he decided against dropping that bombshell any time soon. "But what about you?" She tilted her head curiously at him, and so he pressed on. "You could have killed me the first time we met – is that why you didn't? Because I was your only chance?"

The young woman scoffed and the wings settled back behind her. "Do you think all fairies are as devious as that?" She turned away, but he caught her shoulder.

"No – I... I don't know what to think. But I had to ask. I had to know. So why did you let me go?"

She looked back; Baron was knocked away by the uncannily human eyes that he had never seen on another fairy. Her gaze was soft. Sad. "Does there have to be a reason?"

"I would like there to be a reason. I could have killed you that day–"

"But you didn't. So," she said, rounding on him, "the real question is, why didn't _you_? I know what the humans think of us and any other human would have shot that arrow. But not you. Not... you..."

"Is that why you did it? A life for a life?"

"I did it because I'm not a killer," Haru snapped. "No matter what you humans think of us!"

The wings had risen into the air and Baron stumbled back. Suddenly he was aware that he was still hundreds of metres up in the air, supported only by a layer of leaves and branches. Haru could fly. He could not. She saw the fear she had installed into him and backed away.

"I'm sorry. I just... I'm sorry. I have a bad history with humans." Her wings tucked themselves away, but not before she ran a nervous hand along the injured wing.

She saw him watching and mistook his gaze for a questioning one. "You probably guessed so already but the day you found me, a human shot me down," she said. "I flew too close to their settlement and one spotted me. I can't remember what happened exactly, only a lot of pain and light and confusion. Images sometimes come back, but it's still so jumbled."

Baron dropped his gaze. "I'm sorry."

She shook her head. "It's not your fault. It's probably mine. I should never have gone so near to the town..." There was a heavy, uncomfortable silence, and she broke it when she abruptly raised her eyes to Baron's. "Now it's my turn to ask a question. When you opened that gate for me... you seemed so sad. As if... As if you were saying goodbye. You're not planning on coming back after this, are you?"

"Is that why you brought me here?"

"Can you just answer the question?"

"And the answer is, I don't know. Maybe? Perhaps? Haru, you have to understand that humans don't... don't usually go into the forest without cause. So now my behaviour is beginning to raise questions, attract attention... and people are beginning to get worried." He shook his head, rubbing ruefully at his hair while he tried to find his answer. "I thought... I thought that if I released you, I could go back to my life, and you could go back to yours... and yet..." He glanced down at the canopy, imagining the ground far, far below his feet. "Well, we can both see how that worked out."

"Do you still want to go?" Haru asked quietly.

"For good? I don't know. I mean, we – I mean, humans – stay almost our whole life safely stashed away in the town... We had never imagined the fairy trees could be so..." He motioned numbly to the otherworldly environment around them. His fingers brushed a small red bud. "There's so much we don't know."

Haru gently moved his hand away from the flower. "They won't do humans any good – not if they just take the flowers," she warned. "The flowers only work for fairies." She hesitated, and then added. "Or if they gifted willingly from a fairy. You see, in fairy lore, gifts have power."

"See? There's so much we are ignorant about, simply because we view fairies as nothing more than mindless beasts. I mean..." He paused, and then gave a weak chuckle. "Oh dear. I really am turning into my father... What I'm trying to say is that I do want to come back, but I don't know if I can. I'm going to be in trouble enough today because..."

Baron trailed off.

"Baron? What is it?"

"I stayed out here all night." His voice was tight with the sudden realisation. "I've been out here all night and my parents have no idea... Oh dear. I have to go back." He started to move and then came to an abrupt halt. He looked helplessly to the fairy. "H-How...?"

She smiled weakly. "I'll take you back."

The same light as before encased the young woman and her shape melted into that of the winged feline. She dropped to all fours and raised her wings tentatively in his direction.

"Are...? Are you sure? Your wing... it's still..."

She chuffed at him and nodded for him to get onto her back. Once he was seated, she tested her wings and leapt into the morning air. The leafy canopy dropped away and suddenly it was only Baron, Haru, and the horizon of trees before them.

An almost inaudible gasp escaped Baron's lips as the wind whipped past him and the earth tumbled far below him. He leant into the gryphon and wove his fingers beneath the fur at her scruff. "If I could fly like this, I would never land," he whispered.

Haru chuffed her agreement and continued her steady flight. As they neared the human settlement, the gryphon glanced back to her companion and released a playful rumble.

"Haru, what are you planning...?"

Haru roared to the open sky and dropped. She tucked her wings in and let gravity take its toll, dragging them down and through the upper canopy. They were spinning, spinning, and then the dark wings unfurled and they were weaving between the tree trunks. A flick of the wings and tail and they were vertical, slipping between the close-knit trees as they blurred past. The scream that had initially started in Baron's throat was shifting into a laugh, drunk and dizzy by their crazy flight.

Then, just as suddenly, she was sweeping her wings in to land. The wind gusted about them as her wings beat back to slow her flight. Then there was a yowl that ripped through the air and the two were both sent sprawling to the ground.

Baron landed onto his side and rolled to a slow stop. "What...? What was that? Haru?" He pushed himself to his feet, and stumbled to regain his balance. The world tipped precariously for a moment and then righted itself. He located the gryphon picking herself up from the side of a tree. "HARU!"

She shifted back to her human shape and leant against the trunk to steady herself. Her hands were trembling as they ran over her wings, but her eyes snapped over to him at his call. "Baron? Are you okay? I didn't... I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"I'm fine. But what about you? What – What happened?"

Her hands continued to run along her wings in a motion Baron was coming to see as a subconscious gesture. "My wings gave way," she murmured. "It seems that if I push them too hard, they're going to hurt." Her face crumpled and she gently drew her wings around her.

"Tomorrow."

Her face peeked out from between the feathers. "What?"

He didn't know why he was doing this, but suddenly he was approaching the fairy and saying, "Tomorrow. I'll come again and visit, if I can." He just couldn't leave her like this. Not when it had been his arrow that had laid the injury that still haunted her. Why had the flower healed her broken wing so readily but left the arrow wound behind? It made no sense. "I'll come back."

A small smile flickered across her lips. "You promise you'll try?"

"I promise."

Her smile widened into something tentative, but hopeful. "I like the sound of that."

Any peace of the morning was abruptly shattered by the intrusion of a new fairy. A black-furred creature nearly as large as Haru's feline form, but lacking any semblance of wings, dropped from the trees above and landed heavily between the other two individuals. Suddenly, Baron was inches away from a face of snarling canines and unbridled rage.

Haru put herself between them, reaching out a warning hand to the newcomer. "No, Machida!"

The other fairy snarled but obediently backed away. It shifted into a humanoid form and was almost as human as Haru – save for the feline eyes it maintained. This fairy appeared like a young man, with perhaps a few extra years on his side in comparison to Haru. Angular, angry eyes narrowed at him – or, one did at least; the other was scarred and unseeing. "Haru, where have you been? And, more to the point, what is _he_ doing here?"

Haru pushed herself between them again, making sure the other fairy's attention was on her. "He saved my life, Machida."

Machida's lone seeing eye flickered back to Baron. It narrowed again, but this time in disbelief. "He could have just as easily killed you, I'm sure." Machida had no idea how true his words were. "You know humans aren't to be trusted."

"If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be here."

"We can't just let him leave. You know what will happen if the humans discover you–"

Haru growled and laid a hand on his chest as he tried to breach the distance between him and Baron. "I said _no_." The words were barely audible as she hissed them out from between her teeth.

Machida met her gaze levelly. "Haru, none of the fairies could find you," he said, calmer this time. There was a quietly earnest tone in his voice for her to understand. "We were worried. I was worried. You've been missing for days–"

"I know. But I'm back now. I'll explain later, but now you need to stop. Please. Baron is a friend–"

"You named it? Haru, once you name a human, you begin to get attached–"

"He's a _friend_ ," Haru roughly continued. "He would never hurt me."

"Do you remember what happened the last time a fairy trusted a human?" Machida sharply retorted.

A long, abrupt silence broke out between them and the male fairy tried to backtrack.

"Haru, I'm sorry–"

"Do you think I would so easily forget?" she snarled. "Do you really think I would be that naive?"

"No. I'm sorry–"

Haru shifted back into her feline form and started to push her way back into the depth of the forest. She nudged Machida hard as she passed him by, all trace of her earlier good humour destroyed now. She gave a low rumble that Baron took to be a farewell.

Baron's gaze moved from the departing gryphon to the male fairy before him. Dark eyes met emerald green; both were tainted with mistrust of the other.

Haru gave another growl, and Machida turned to follow after her.

Baron watched them disappear back into the shadows of the forest.

ooOoo

The sun was well-risen by the time Humbert reached the doorway of his home. In some form of optimistic naivety, he blindly hoped that his nightly absence would have gone unnoticed by his family. Even with the sun up, it was still summer and so it was still, technically, early. Perhaps he would, at least, be able to sneak back in without facing interrogation–

That fantasy was shattered the moment he passed by his mother's apothecary office.

It seemed Elora von Gikkingen was up early. As per usual.

Upon hearing his attempts at muffled footsteps, she moved to the doorway of her office and leant against the jambs. Her eyes were tired and betrayed a lack of sleep, but they were still sharp enough to convey just how much trouble Humbert was in.

"Where were you last night?"

"I..." His mind ran dry of excuses. "I..."

"Tell. Me."

His mouth ran dry to match his mind. "I... I was... I mean..." His hand moved to his bag and firmly shoved his father's notebook further into its depths. "I was doing research. Exploring the forest. I lost track of time and it took longer than expected to get back. That's all."

"Research?"

"Like Father does," Humbert defended. "I finally started getting curious about the fairies, that's all."

"Your father studies dusty old tomes and research papers," Elora growled. "He does _not_ go venturing into the forest–"

"Someone has to go into the forest to get that data," Humbert pointed out.

"Yes, but they're not from here. People here don't go wandering into the woods, Humbert. People here don't forgo their obligations in favour of running after fairies. _People here do not spend the night in the forest._ " Her eyes narrowed. "Have you forgotten that you agreed to meet Louise last night?"

"What?"

"The Jay's Nest. Seven thirty? Is this ringing any bells, Humbert?"

Her son eventually recalled the hasty conversation he'd shared with Toto – including his equally-hasty agreement. He bit back the curse that was forming on his tongue. "Yes. I'm sorry. I did forget – I..." The day had just been swept away the moment he had released Haru from the shoreline. Time seemed to pass differently in the fairy-filled forest.

"How does one manage to forget that and then spend the entire night in that wood?" Elora demanded. "What have you been _doing_?"

"I told you, research. I just... I walked too far, and then decided to... to camp out instead of walking in the dark. Is... Is Louise angry with me?"

"If she is, I wouldn't blame her," his mother replied. Her ire faded, giving way to a maternal tiredness. "What are we going to do with you, Humbert? Please, promise me this is all just curiosity, nothing more. You're not going to do anything... foolish, are you?"

' _Like save the last gryphon in existence? Oh, wait..._ ' Instead, Humbert only smiled. "I'll do my best."

ooOoo

Humbert stared up at the white marbled palace, a sinking feeling spreading through his stomach. Due to his closeness with the princess, the guards were familiar with the young noble, and so they waved him through without a second glance. The interior was as grand as the outside, giving way to a large entrance hall centred at the far end by a tall throne. Where a tapestry or royal portrait may have hung, a glass cabinet stood instead. On either side, long windows ran to the ceiling, casting slim shadows across the room.

One of the servants – a butler, or suchlike – took his name and said he would inform 'her Highness' of his arrival. While he waited, he drifted across the room.

He had rarely paid attention to the glass cabinet in the past. He now ignored the throne and approached the display. Of course, he knew what was in it. Anyone who was... well, _anyone_ knew how the King kept the prize of his youth clear for all to see.

For perhaps the first time in his life, he took a closer look at the exhibit.

For their twenty years of display, the wings showed no sign of decay. Wooden hinges supported the wings upright, their brown, almost red feathers glittering slightly in the morning light. Humbert leant forward and let his hand fall against the cool glass. The wings – save for their colour – could have been mistaken for Haru's.

If anyone discovered the truth about the young gryphon, her wings would soon become another hunted prize.

"Do you like my display, Humbert?"

The young noble froze, his back to the speaker. But he didn't have to turn to know who was addressing him. He abruptly spun and performed a hasty bow. "Your Majesty."

The man's face split into an amicable grin and he waved away Humbert's formalities. "Please, there is no need. Certainly not for the young man who has stolen away my Louise's heart." King David approached the glass cabinet, hands tucked behind his back as he looked up to its contents. "After all this time and those wings still give me shivers."

"They are amazing," Humbert said.

"They certainly are."

"They must have been even more so when alive," he murmured.

He felt the King's gaze turn to him and immediately regretted his stupid words. He kept his attention solidly on the wings, keenly avoiding making eye contact with the royal.

After a long moment, the King swung his eyes back to the cabinet. "She was."

"Humbert? Humbert!" A blur of blonde hair and the noble found himself abruptly embraced by the young princess. He staggered back, instinctively moving to hug her back and then freezing. He chuckled uneasily.

"So, are you mad at me?"

"For blowing me off on our dinner?" Louise released him and thoughtfully stared at the young man. She illustrated half an inch with her thumb and finger. "A little," she admitted. "But I think I'll learn to forgive you."

"I see I've raised _such_ a merciful daughter," the King laughed. He chuckled and patted Humbert on the shoulder before turning to go. "It was good to see you around, my boy."

Humbert smiled weakly and watched the royal leave. He gingerly rubbed at his shoulder; sometimes it was clear that the King had come from a rougher background. He still had the strength from his earlier life.

"I see you're still on the gryphon theme."

Humbert returned his attention to the princess, following her gaze back to the wing cabinet. "I guess so." His eyes travelled over the glossy feathers, over the wings that reminded him so strongly of Haru, and that strange surreal feeling came over him again. He felt Louise watching him and knew that he should say something, but the only thoughts he could conjure were dangerous words. His novel interest in gryphons had already been noted by so many; he couldn't afford to say anything that might even remotely mark him as a fairy sympathiser.

"I try not to think about them too much."

Louise's eventual words came out a murmur, and broke the young noble from his hesitant thoughts. His brow furrowed in tempered confusion.

"Gryphons?"

"The wings," she corrected. "I've never told Father, but keeping them here has always been a little... morbid." Louise dropped her gaze. "He would hate to know that."

"He's your father. He would never hate you," Humbert reassured.

"Gryphons are a different matter altogether." She turned her gaze to him. "He's terrified of them."

"He's got nothing to be afraid of then," he reasoned, "since he killed the last gryphon." There was a long silence from the Princess, and Humbert stared back at her. "Right?" An uneasy feeling settled into his stomach; a potent premonition that everything he had been taught was wrong. "Right?" he echoed weakly.

"No," Louise whispered. "He didn't."

"But... the wings–"

"The wings he took from her, but he left the last gryphon alive. Don't you see? That's why gryphons scare him so – he's afraid that she's coming back for revenge." She grabbed at his sleeve, abruptly nervous. "You mustn't tell Father that I told you – he would be furious if he knew."

"But... why?"

"Why do you think–?" she snapped.

"No, I mean... why would he leave the gryphon alive?"

"I don't know."

"After all, a gryphon who's lost her wings..." Unbidden, the image of Haru rose back to his mind; the lost gryphon scrabbling at the cliff wall. "A flightless gryphon..."

"Would just be like any other fairy," Louise finished.

"No. No, it would be far worse than that," he murmured. "Most fairies have never experienced flight, but a gryphon... a gryphon lives in the air. If you were to take that away... I can't see how it would cope. Unless..." Unless the fairy trees could bring back severed wings.

"Unless?" the Princess prompted.

"Nothing." He hugged the blonde and stepped away. "Nothing, but... I've got to go." ' _This could change everything..._ '

"Humbert!" Louise's grip on his sleeve tightened, dragging him back before he could run off. "What...? What's going on? Where are you going?"

"There's someone I need to see."

Instead of releasing him, Louise stepped forward, peering into the startling green eyes of the Baron. "You're up to something," she hummed. "I can see it."

He fought back the blush of guilt, forcing himself to hold the Princess's scrutinising glare."No, I'm not."

"You're lying." The frown softened and shifted into something altogether more delicate. She broke the stare, glancing away towards the dark wings mounted in the cabinet. "You're purposely hiding something from me, Humbert. Why?"

"Because I don't want you to get hurt." The words had slipped out before he had even thought them through. "It's enough that I know what I do, but you–"

"So you admit you're putting yourself in danger?"

"I'm only in danger if anyone discovers it. It's not that I don't trust you to keep a secret, but if anyone were to find out the truth – and that you had also been part of it – then we both would be in trouble. And..." he added reluctantly, "it's not really my secret. It belongs to someone else."

The silence of the hall stretched out for a small eternity, and when Humbert focused back on the young woman, Louise's brows were deeply furrowed and she was furiously biting at her lip. "Okay," she muttered. "Alright, I won't push you." She snapped her gaze to him, and her piercing blue eyes glared daggers at him. "But if things get too dangerous, you get yourself out of it, okay? I won't have you getting yourself killed because you tried some dumb heroics."

A small smile flickered across Humbert's face. "Dumb heroics?" he echoed. "What makes you think that that has anything to do with this?"

"You're too kind for your own good, that's why," Louise retorted. Her shoulders sagged and she leant against her friend, burying her head into his chest. "Just look after yourself, okay? I don't want to lose you."

"And I promise you, you won't–"

Louise laughed humourlessly into his jacket. "You're such an idiot. Just go, before I try to slap some sense into you."

Humbert kissed the top of her head and stepped away. "Thank you."


	6. The Lonely Gryphon

Given his mother's warning, Humbert resisted the urge to go running straight back into the forest. He did, however, spare some time to go reading back over the history books he had been raised on – all of which told of the same story he had been told all his life. There was not a single mention of any chance that the gryphon had been left alive.

It was true; the wings weren't the same colour as those that Haru now possessed. But perhaps they had become discoloured with age, or the new wings had grown back darker this time around. They had no real records of how long fairies lived, or how slowly they aged, so perhaps...

It was all a game of speculation. Until he could see Haru again, there would be no real use in continuing his mad accumulation of theories. He curbed his desire to return to the forest and, instead, threw himself back into the festivities of the town. For a single day, everything was allowed to return the pretence of normality.

After all, he had promised Haru that he would see her tomorrow.

So it could wait another day.

ooOoo

The forest was becoming more familiar every day. The danger was still there – it thrummed like an undercurrent in the very air – but at the same time, a sense of acceptance was beginning to seep from the woodland. He could feel the myriad of curious eyes watching him – on the few times he had entered the forest in the past, it had almost been a tangible feeling – but it was no longer like the stare of cats eyeing a mouse. Perhaps the fairies had never been like that before; perhaps it had always been in his mind.

Perhaps they had always been deluding themselves. The human mind sees and senses what it expects to find. What it is _afraid_ to find. Because sometimes expecting the worst gives that millisecond of a head start that separates life from death – but at other times it creates monsters out of shadows.

Luminous yellow eyes glimmered in the darkness of the undergrowth. A form slinked into the light – a brownie, like the one he had thrown out of his house all those days before. Before he had ever shot down a gryphon.

Its gnarled, dirt-brown face squinting up at him; now it was out of the shadows, its yellow eyes had receded into dark pinpricks. It stared at him, and he at it, and then it dissolved away into the strange form of an emaciated cat. Its newly-formed fur was brown like its previously-wrinkled skin, and of a short fuzz in texture. Its limbs were long and skeletal, and its ribs could be seen clearly along its chest.

In short, it was a rather ugly cat.

It grinned, and the row of sharp, jagged – not to mention possibly venomous – teeth shone in the summer light.

Humbert smiled weakly back. Then he yelped and tried to stumble back when it ran straight at him – if he died from one lousy brownie bite, his ghost would surely die again from embarrassment. But the ugly feline only butted its head into his leg and emitted that strange content rumbling sound that Haru had displayed.

Humbert's smile warily slipped back into place, and he carefully lent down to scratch the fairy behind the ears. The rumbling sound intensified, and his own smile grew into something more genuine. "Even you guys aren't so bad when you're not being thrown out of the house."

The brownie stopped and glanced up at him – no, _beyond_ him. A prickle ran down his back as he sensed someone – or _something_ – behind him. He hastily stood back up just in time for a bundle of fur and feathers to slam into him. The brownie squealed, shifting back into its more humanoid form, and scurried away.

Humbert batted away at the huge feline face bearing down at him.

"Yes, okay, I came back!" he yelped, laughing as he tried to push himself free. "I promised, didn't I? Can you let me go now?"

Haru chuffed and released the young noble. As she stepped back, her feline form melted away and she reverted to her human shape, keeping only her wings from her previous form. Her dark eyes sparkled and her wild grin was threatening to stretch from ear-to-ear. "Baron! I know you said you would come back, but... I wasn't sure," she admitted. She blushed. "I thought that perhaps I had scared you off."

"You'd have to try a lot harder than that."

She laughed. "Challenge accepted." She turned to run deeper into the woods, but Baron caught her wrist – just like Louise had caught him before. She hesitated and the smile shifted into confusion. "Baron?"

"But... that said, there are some answers I would like."

"About what?"

"About the last gryphon."

Haru's silence spoke more words than she could have ever said.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"Of course I do," she murmured.

"In our history, our king killed the last gryphon and took its wings in order to gain the throne," Baron said slowly. "But... he didn't kill her, did he?"

"He might as well as," Haru muttered. Her gaze had dropped to the ground, the smile now completely gone. "He sliced her wings using an iron blade. Fairies are allergic to iron, so such wounds caused by a weapon like that would never heal, not even if they slept forever in the flowers. Her wings never returned."

"What happened to her?"

"For a while, she held out; for a while she struggled. For nearly five years, in fact. But gryphons don't do well when they're grounded. The iron infection in her blood eventually won out."

"I'm... I'm sorry."

"Why? You couldn't have done anything to prevent it happening."

' _No... but it was my parents who gave the king the sleeping draught that enabled him to hurt her..._ '

"And to think that the king is afraid she's going to be coming back for revenge," Baron muttered, mostly to himself.

Haru opened her mouth to say something, and then shut it. She shook her head, retreating away as she shifted back into her winged feline form.

"Haru, I'm... I'm sorry for bringing it up – I didn't mean to–"

The gryphon lifted a wing and motioned for him to step up. Despite his hesitation, he followed the order and, when he was seated, the wings propelled them into the air. He yelped and clung on tighter as the ground whipped away from beneath him. Haru had evidently re-established a little of her balance and strength, for her sudden burst into flight far outstripped the previous time. She spun up into the canopy, rising straight past the red flowers of the fairy trees, and coming to a soaring flight above even the highest trees.

Even so, he could feel she was holding back. Her flight was tempered by the tender wing.

Haru twisted her head round to nudge at her passenger. He reluctantly opened his eyes and stared down at the carpet of green below him. The forest was mapped below him in emerald splendour, shaded in every green imaginable. And, all across that monopoly of green, the red roses glimmered in the depth of the canopy.

"It's... It's beautiful," he whispered.

Haru chuffed and dropped down to one of the trees. Baron ungainly clambered off, and the gryphon reverted to her human form.

"This is our home," she sighed. "In more ways than you can imagine. These are all, in fact, the same tree, connected together. You saw the master tree before, from which all the other fairy trees grew up from the roots of. The flowers don't just heal us – we have to return to sleep in them otherwise... well, it's said that a fairy that strays too far from the flowers will eventually collapse and die."

Baron considered the days Haru had spent trapped beside the sea. "If I... If I had left you back at the bay, how long...?"

"A week, I expect. I think I'll survive longer than the smaller fairies, but I don't ever want to test it. It's like... like sleep doesn't do anything when you're away from the trees. So this is why we have to protect our forest. So many other trees in the rest of the world have been cut down by humans... it is only a matter of time before the same happens here..."

Haru stood at the topmost branches of the tree, one hand wrapped around the thinning trunk and her wings gently raised to keep her balanced. She swayed there softly in the breeze, the wind whipping her short hair about her face. Baron watched her and, for that moment, saw the feral creature she was.

"I don't understand why you are telling me this," he murmured. "If another human were to hear of this–"

"I know. They'd deliberately turn to tearing down our home," Haru agreed. "They would burn our trees and ransack our home... They would destroy us." Her eyes turned to him and, despite the fact that they were not feline like the other fairies', there was still something untameable about them. "In the end, the humans will destroy us anyway. So many of our sister forests have already been demolished to make way for humanity; sooner or later the same will happen here. My point is, eventually we will be gone. Fairies will become a distant myth, and I don't want the story of my people to be that of monsters."

"So what do you want me to do about that?"

"Remember us." She lifted her face to the sky and outstretched her arms to the forest before them. "Remember this. Someone should know the truth of us."

"Why me?"

Her eyes returned to him and suddenly they seemed all-too-human. "Why not you? You were the one to spare a gryphon's life, to bandage up her wing, to free her. You're also the first human I've met," she added, looking away and shrugging her shoulders awkwardly. "It's not like I had much of a choice in the matter. But... you have proven yourself, as things are. You know of our weakness to salt, and you were probably going to work out our aversion to iron soon too... You could have used that against us. You could have brought the humans down on us... but you didn't."

"By that point, I had already helped you," Baron reminded her. "I was already in over my head."

"You had a choice. You always had a choice."

"It doesn't always feel that way."

"But there is _always_ a choice."

He met her dark eyes and a small smile rose, unbidden. "No, there was no choice. If I had told of you, it would have condemned you to death. How could I have done that?"

"How could you go against all the teachings of your childhood?" Haru returned. Her words were not unkind, but they were unrelenting. She leant away and her wings shifted uncomfortably in the air. A slight change in note turned her words into something teasing. "I mean, seriously? How do you just decide to turn your back on everything you've ever been told about us?" Her demeanour changed again, as temperamental as the sea, and her eyes softened. "How did you do that?"

Baron thought back to the time before he had met Haru – no more than a week ago. To the time when he had constantly complained to his mother about not being allowed to set down traps for the fairies, the times he had kicked the brownies out of the garden, the times in class – several years ago now – where the danger of gryphons had been drilled into him. His parents had always tried to be humane to the fairies, but his change in attitude was not due to the good example they had set down for him.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. "I should have shot you that first day. I was going to, but..."

"But?" Haru prompted.

"But I looked into your eyes and I saw... another life." He stared at her, meeting the same dark eyes that had startled him on their first meeting. Eyes that had rendered him unable to shoot the second time around. "And I'm not a killer," he quietly finished.

"No. No, you're not," Haru agreed. Her gaze softened and moved beyond Baron, watching over the expansive horizon. There was something distant in her eyes. "But you don't have to be a killer to harm. The King was no killer, not then anyway, but his actions led to a death nonetheless." The eyes flickered back to him. "You could have brought the other humans to me. You wouldn't have had to get your hands dirty; you could have let other people do it."

"That would have been as good as killing you."

"Not to everyone."

"It would be to me." Baron solidly met her gaze, his heart pounding although he didn't know why. The thought that Haru might imagine him capable of that... for some reason it made him sick. Her opinion on him _mattered_. "Haru, there's something you're not telling me about the last gryphon. Something big."

"Yes." She didn't even try to deny it.

"Who was she?"

"She was my mother."

Half a dozen rapid heartbeats hammered through Baron in that silence. He looked away, closing his eyes in guilt. "Haru... I'm so sorry."

The young woman scoffed, but she was carefully not looking at the human. A dark scowl was marked across her forehead. "That's all anyone says when the truth comes out. I don't need pity; I've been living with this for the past fifteen years. Sorry won't bring her back."

"Still, it must have been hard–"

"Yes, it was. Death is hard and harsh and unforgiving, but nothing will change what happened. I can't afford to focus on it, otherwise I'll go out for revenge, and I know that will only make matters worse. The fairies of this forest look up to me, and if I get myself killed then there will be no one left to look after them. Or, worse, if my actions drive the humans to attack the forest, I could be responsible for the extinction of my kind. You see, Baron, I've been thinking over this for years, and the only way to deal with it is to find something else to live for." She sighed. "Otherwise violence begets violence."

"I'm not sure I would be able to forgive in your place," Baron murmured.

"Don't get me wrong, I don't forgive him," Haru snapped. "But I can't start something that I won't be able to finish. If I strike out, I could start a war between humankind and the fae folk. I won't be responsible for that. I can't be."

Her shoulders abruptly sagged, and – for just a second – Baron was reminded of Louise, in her defeat from the day before.

"We should return to the ground. I have kept you away from home for too long today."

"No – not yet." He reached out for her, and then hesitated. The mental comparison between Haru and Louise had almost made him forget that this wasn't just a human; this was a wild creature, however fair her face was. She saw the action as his hand hovered in the air, lost. "I don't want to leave you like this."

"Like what?"

"So..." _Defeated_ was the word that came. "So tired," he decided upon. "I want to see you smiling before I go."

And she did smile at that – a tired smile, but one that whispered of building content. "Fine. Okay." She leant back and her wings lifted up into the sky, soaking in the warm summer sunshine. "It's a good day today, and you haven't seen the ponds yet. Come on." She shifted back into her winged feline form and waited for Baron to clamber back on.

Instead of flying this time, Haru took a bounding leap off the tree. Baron's stomach lurched, but just as he was beginning to worry – not that he was about to admit that to Haru – the gryphon landed on another branch. "I'm not going to take responsibility if I get airsick one of these days," he gagged.

Haru gave him a dirty look – roughly translated into: _Vomit on me and I'll drop you off the nearest tree_ – and leapt onto the next branch. She jumped across the trees in a manner that made Baron wonder whether her earlier flight had taken more out of her than she cared to admit; whether she had decided to opt out of flying to let her wings rest.

After a few minutes of their squirrel-like movement across the forest, they dropped lower and lower, bounding from tree-to-tree until the forest opened up into a sun-dappled glade, centred by a series of small crystal-clear ponds shaped into a cat's paw. The largest one – the 'pad' of the cat's paw – was, at most, ten metres across.

Baron slid off, slipping onto the grass and stepping into the sunlight. The ponds were busy with other fairies – most in their feline form, but a few looking more humanoid – paddling and playing in the water's shallow edges.

"You guys keep on surprising me," he murmured.

There was a splash as Haru – still in her cat shape – bounded into the depths and disappeared beneath the waters. A moment later there was an uproar of water as she rose back to the surface, wings beating against the water. She paddled back towards the shoreline – where Baron stood watching, faintly bemused – and gave a rumbling sound to him. Something he took to mean as: _Come in, the water's lovely!_

He chuckled and stepped away. "I'm fine. But thanks, anyway."

She chuffed and, as soon as her paws could reach the pond bottom, began a clumsy run back towards the shore. Baron could see her intent instantly, and started to back away. Unfortunately, before he could even get anywhere, one of the smaller fairies became tangled in his feet and he fell back, landing straight into the shallows.

As he blinked away the water from his face, the furry façade of Haru swam into view. She huffed triumphantly.

"I don't know what you're so pleased about," he retorted. "You didn't even do anything."

She huffed again and sat down in the shallow waters. As Baron sat up, she looked imploringly at him.

"No, still not interested."

The cat gave a very definite eye-roll and grabbed at his sleeve, insistently dragging him towards the water. He snatched his arm away.

"Haru, I said no!"

She froze, abruptly releasing him and shifting her wings uncomfortably away. Baron's anger began to fade almost instantly, dissolving into guilt.

"I'm sorry, I just... I'm just not very good at swimming." He dropped his gaze down, acutely embarrassed. There had never been any real need to learn how to swim; true, they lived beside the sea, but most of the shoreline was used for the harbour and fishing boats. He had little to do with the fishing industry, so he had rarely wandered that way. And, anyway, there were always stories of monsters swimming in the deep, although since fairies couldn't abide salt, that was probably just tall tales.

Haru nudged against his arm and, this time when she took his sleeve, she tugged it much more gently.

 _Trust me_ , her eyes said.

He swallowed back the beginnings of fear, and nodded. "Okay."

Her eyes glimmered and she carefully led him deeper. As the water rose to his chest, the panic threatened to rise again, and he threw out an arm to Haru's side, grabbing onto her fur for support. She grunted at the tight grip, but didn't try to shake him off. As they reached the centre of the largest pond, Baron's toes were straining for the pond bottom, but a good half-metre separated them.

"And you're sure this is safe?" he gasped.

Haru pointedly directed her gaze to a couple of small fairies paddling a few metres away.

"Okay, I see your point." Still, his grip remained fast, his feet desperately trying to reach solid ground. They flailed through the water, moving too fast to let his body relax.

The gryphon gave a feline sigh and nudged at his arm with her muzzle. When he didn't react, she repeated the action impatiently, pushing at him until he moved his grip to the thick fur around her neck. Hesitantly, he moved his other hand to the thick ruffle and floated there, heart still pounding in his ears.

She reached forward and nudged his chin with her nose, helpfully keeping his head above the water. With the threat of imminent drowning – or in his mind, anyway – pushed aside, his panic began to subside. The gryphon would never let him sink – that he trusted in. As his heart rate slowed, so did his feet beating against the water. And as he calmed, he felt the way the water buoyed him up.

He released Haru and gently trod water, circling his hands to keep him balanced. Haru slowly removed her nose from his chin and – for the first time – he trod the water alone. "I'm still a little scared," he admitted. His voice came out in a gasp, as even that breath of air released for speech dropped him deeper into the water. He took a quick gasp and filled his lungs again, buoying himself back up.

Haru grinned and gave him a helpful nudge, bringing him safely above the surface. She paddled back towards the shoreline and paused, looking back to the bobbing human.

"Are you just going to leave me here?" he demanded.

The gryphon chuffed and left the metre distance between them there. She motioned for him to come to her instead.

"Are you crazy? I can't do that!"

She chuffed again, a smidgen more impatient this time. _How do you know if you don't try?_ it meant.

Baron frowned, but gritted his teeth. He was floating steadily; all he needed now was to add some direction to it. He focused his hands towards the swimming gryphon and pushed his way through the water – and was faintly surprised when he did move towards her. He repeated the motion, slowly, slowly covering the metre between them.

He neared her, and Haru extended a wing, giving him something to reach for just as he was tiring. He wasn't a weakling, but swimming required the use of muscles that he rarely exercised. He clung onto the gryphon's side like a drowning rat to the last remains of a ship.

Haru rumbled proudly and steadily began to swim back to the shore. As his toes found solid ground beneath him, he reached for the bottom, tip-toeing his way closer to dry land. When his torso was free from the water, his legs suddenly felt like jelly, and they almost gave way entirely. The gryphon caught him before he stumbled, worriedly looking over the exhausted human.

"I'm okay..." he murmured, and he was relieved to realise it was the truth. "It's just... my legs... aren't used to supporting me after that..."

She helped him to the grassy bank and let him collapse down onto the soft ground. She sat down beside him, shaking the water from her fur and spraying Baron in the process.

"Hey, knock it off!"

The chuffing humour morphed into familiar laughter as Haru shrank down into her human form. "How do you feel?"

"Honestly? My heart is still pounding. But I had fun."

"You didn't drown."

"No. I didn't drown," he admitted.

"Nothing ate you either."

"No."

"So what were you afraid of?"

"Not being able to swim."

"But now you can."

"Sort of."

Haru's face broke into a yet-larger smile that shone through her eyes. "You've just got to keep practicing, that's all. So you'll have to come back here soon, okay?"

In the warm summer sunshine, Baron was already drying off. He pushed himself up and looked over to the fairy, collapsed comfortably on the bank. "Haru... why do you want me to come back?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"That doesn't answer my question."

Haru sighed and slowly sat up. Her wings rose with her, raised up beside her body and still heavy with the water soaked into the feathers. "Why do you think, Baron?" she asked. "Because you're a friend."

"So what? You must have many friends among the other fairies."

She was silent a moment. "No, not really." A scrawny tabby cat scampered up to them and Haru ran a hand along its back, resulting in that same vibrating rumble. "I protect them, but many have lost the art of speech. We are so small and so few nowadays."

"But what about that other fairy – the dark-furred one?" Baron asked. "He could speak."

"He has human heritage, passed along from his grandfather," Haru explained. "For some reason, having a little human blood in our past strengthens us." She glanced down to her hands, flexing them and turning them over to inspect her nails. "It's almost as if it keeps us... a little more real than the others..."

"And you?" he prompted. "You have wings and you can speak – so where does your human heritage come from?"

"My father. I guess I'm lucky; if it weren't that I was only half-fairy, I would probably be a lot... a lot less human."

Baron hesitated. "I probably would have shot you," he admitted.

"I know." A moment or so ticked by, with the only sound being that of the other fairies playing in the water. "I guess my heritage makes me lucky, but even so... it's still lonely sometimes," she said eventually. She looked to him and her smile was bittersweet. "That's why I want your friendship. It seems pretty pathetic to want someone else around just to cover the loneliness really but... but I guess that's all friendship is. No one can function alone."

He returned the gaze, but his eyes were sad. "No, there's a lot more to friendship than that," he said. "Friends begin that way, maybe, but what it becomes is much deeper. We become a second home, a safe-house, a comfort." His mind was driven to the human friends he had left behind today – Toto, with his secret desire to become a healer; Muta, with the life and smells he brought to the kitchen; Louise...

Louise, whom he had actively kept his secret from.

None of whom knew where he was sneaking out to anymore.

And then there was his fairy friend. Haru. The feral child. The free spirit. The fairy alone in a world of fairies. The fairy who had spared a human's life. Whose eyes were so very human.

The lonely gryphon in the woods.

"Baron?"

The aforementioned gryphon leant hesitantly before the young noble. Her eyes were constantly changing between emotions and state – sometimes she seemed feral, other times human, and now... now she just seemed so young. He blinked and focused back on the fairy, realising he had been lost in his thoughts for too long. "Are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes, I just... I should go home."

"Oh. Okay."

"My family will be worried."

"Yes. Of course." She shifted into her feline form and walked with him to the edge of the forest – as far as she dared go, so close to the human settlement. They had returned in silence, and as Baron returned to his feet, Haru turned to leave.

"Haru," he called.

She turned back to look at him.

"I'll come back tomorrow again, okay?"

Her eyes glimmered again and she leapt into the darkness of the forest.

Baron caught himself smiling as he watched her disappear. She was a secret – a heavy secret – but one that, strangely enough, he didn't mind carrying. Something large rustled in one of the trees above and he spotted a dash of dark fur. The grin returned. "Haru? Is that you?"

A wingless, black panther dropped out of the trees. The fairy shifted back into his human form. "Not hardly."


	7. Only Destruction

" _Lies and secrets, they are like a cancer in the soul. They eat away what is good and leave only destruction behind."_

_~ Cassandra Clare_

x

Baron took a stumbling step or several back from the fairy. He had only met this particular fae once, but that was quite enough for him.

"Machida, was it?" he stuttered.

"You have quite a memory for names, don't you?"

"Only for the ones who tried to attack me." As the wingless fairy approached, Baron tried to distance himself by stepping further back. The fairy didn't seem particularly perturbed by this weak attempt to escape. "Look, I'm not here for any trouble – I'm just–"

"You're just here for Haru."

"What–"

The fairy shifted into his feline form and pinned the human to the ground. "Isn't that right?" The words were distorted, forced through a strange windpipe and around sharp teeth as they were; if Haru could speak in her feline form, this would explain why he had never heard her. Machida sounded _monstrous_ in this voice. Inhuman and freakish. "How much did the King pay you for this job, huh? How much gold and silver?"

"He doesn't–"

"Or did he offer something quite different – maybe his daughter's hand in marriage or the chance to be the next king? That would be fitting–"

Baron squirmed and kicked out at the fairy, delivering enough force to momentarily lighten Machida's grip. He gasped a welcoming breath of air and managed to push out, "That's not what this is about!"

"You can excuse me if I don't believe you!" the fairy roared. "He sent you out to kill her, didn't he? He plans to trick her just like he tricked the last gryphon–"

"What?"

"Well, I'm not having it! I won't allow it–"

"You're wrong," hissed Baron. "The King doesn't even know about Haru."

Machida's grip loosened enough for Baron to breath. "What?"

"He doesn't know she exists," he whispered. "No one else knows... that there's one... last gryphon left..."

"He knows nothing about her?"

"That's right..."

The fairy stared down at the human, a heartbeat of time passing before he reacted.

"How ironic..." Machida stepped away from Baron, but the human didn't dare move. It would have been too much effort anyway; he was still gasping for air. The fairy shifted back into his human form, but Baron didn't doubt that he was still dangerous. "How can I trust that you're telling the truth?"

"Why would I help her if I was planning on hurting her all along?" Baron demanded. "If I had wanted to kill her, I would have done so when I first found her, trapped and injured at the sea edge." He pushed himself up, rubbing gingerly at his neck. His throat was still sore. "I had the chance to kill her," he muttered hoarsely. He flicked his gaze up and levelly met the dark eyes of the fairy. Even with the human blood in his veins, Machida had feline eyes. "But I discovered that day that I could not take even one fairy life."

Machida stared back, and seemed to find the answer he was looking for in the human's eyes. "Haru is the only gryphon left in this forest – perhaps in the entire world. We are dying out, human, and we cannot afford to lose her." His lip curled in obvious disgust. "She will not become another trophy for your king's wall."

Baron's gaze hardened. "I would never allow that to happen."

"It's what's going to happen if you keep wandering into our wood," Machida growled. "Sooner or later your disappearances are going to be noticed, and when that happens? Someone will follow you in and the story of the last gryphon – the _real_ last gryphon – will leak out. More will come to find her. Eventually a hunter will be successful."

" _You don't have to be a killer to harm... You could have brought the other humans to me. You wouldn't have had to get your hands dirty; you could have let other people do it."_

Haru's words from earlier returned to him, and this time the meaning hit him again. It didn't even have to be intentional – if he accidentally led another human here, it would be as good as killing Haru himself.

"So I suppose this is the point where you tell me to leave and never come back?"

"I could try, but I doubt you'd listen."

"Then we've reached an impasse."

"Not quite." Machida stalked up to the human, one hand accursedly pointed towards the young noble. Baron took note that the fingernails were more claw-like than anything else; just another reminder that this creature was far from human. "If you do anything to hurt her – and I don't just mean intentionally, I mean if your actions _in any way_ cause her harm – then I will come after you and I will make sure you suffer her pain tenfold."

Baron backed away. With his eyes and claws, Machida would be spotted the moment he ventured into town, if he ever tried to carry out such a threat. But Baron had no doubt that he would find a way. "On my honour," Baron promised, "I won't let any harm come to her." He dropped his gaze. "I could never hurt her."

Emerald eyes met dark feline irises, and something unspoken passed between them. A newfound kind of respect for the other. They both cared for Haru, in their own way, even if they had different ways of showing it.

"But you won't stop coming here."

"I won't stop coming here," Baron agreed. "I can't. She's a... friend."

A fairy friend. Had the two words ever been coupled together?

"I see. Then be careful."

"Wait – you said something about how the King tricked the last gryphon?" Baron called.

The fairy was turning to leave, but there he paused. "The King convinced Naoko that he loved her," Machida said hollowly. "That was why she dropped her guard – and when she did, the human showed no mercy. It was the iron infection that killed her, but the heartbreak broke her long before." He looked away. "I don't want history to repeat itself. Do you understand, human?"

"Yes. Yes, I understand perfectly."

"Good. If I find that you have tricked her the same way as that human, not all the iron in the world will stop me from finding you."

ooOoo

The study light was on when Baron returned, denoting that his father had already made his way to his work and was probably pouring over more old tomes. However, as he neared he could hear unfamiliar voices.

"All we are doing, Lady Gikkingen, is just a check-up. Your son has been leaving the town at an alarming frequency, which has brought him to our attention–"

"And what do you think he is doing in the forest?" His mother's voice cut through the air, sharp and apparently unworried. "I need him out there to collect herbs and plants for my work. I can't grow everything in the garden. Well? What did you think was going on?"

There was a rather uncomfortable silence from the visitors. Elora von Gikkingen had a way with words that could reduce nearly anyone to that of an embarrassed child. Humbert had no doubt that she was having that effect now.

"Lady Gikkingen," one of the visitors eventually coughed, stressing the respect he was giving in her title, "all we are here for is to ensure that nothing... untoward is happening as a result of your son's actions–"

"Untoward?" Elora dangerously echoed. "And what, pray tell, kind of _untoward_ _results_ might occur from my son collecting herbs?"

"The, uh... the forest is a dangerous place, your ladyship. It's not wise for a person to go into its depths alone."

"And so you merely came here due to concern for Humbert?" While Elora's voice sounded sweet, Humbert was too familiar with his mother to believe that she was truly buying their words. He detoured to his mother's cupboards, snatching up a couple of forest herbs, and returned back his father's office to hear the conversation still in swing.

"... but to some, his recent disappearances into the forest could be seen as suspicious–"

Humbert decided to interrupt at that point with a quick rap on the door. When he entered, he was not surprised to see the blue uniforms of the royal guard crowding the room. He did his best to look vaguely confused. "Hey, Mother, I have the herbs you asked for – oh? What's going on?"

Upon seeing the batch of herbs he was carrying, the guards' embarrassment appeared to intensify. The head guard started to move out. "Nothing, young man. Merely a regular check up." He hesitated as he passed by the young sorcerer and Humbert became abruptly aware that he was still scuffed and messy from his time in the forest. The guard motioned to his face. "Where'd you get those?"

Humbert raised one hand to his face and felt the faint scars he had picked up from his skirmish with Machida. They would fade but, for now, they were still somewhat raw.

"Brambles," he lied.

The guard's gaze moved over the cuts, but Elora moved protectively to her son's side. "Is that all, or are you about to interrogate my son also?"

"No, your ladyship. That is all."

"Well then, you know the way out."

The Gikkingen family were silent until they heard the swing of the front door close behind the guards. Once they were alone, both Elora and Edmund turned to the youngest Gikkingen. "Well?" Elora prompted icily."What do you have to say?"

Humbert smiled weakly and offered the herbs. "I have the plants."

Elora swiped them from him, glowering. "That was quick thinking on your part," she admitted, "but that doesn't cover the fact that we had to lie for you. Where were you? Where have you been? What has been so important over the last week that you've been absent from the town for? And after all we spoke over last time..."

"I..."

"Are you in trouble?" Edmund asked, voicing his first words since Humbert's return. "Do you need help?"

"I... No, no, I don't think so..."

"Then what's going on?" his mother stressed.

"I..." Humbert stuttered and then dropped his gaze, shamefaced. "I can't say."

"Can't or won't?"

"I... I can't."

Edmund rose from his desk to approach his son. "Humbert, we're your parents – we care for you, but we're worried too. We can't help if we don't know what is going on." The scholar paused, then asked, "Is it something to do with the fairies?"

"How–?"

His father laughed. "It's the only thing that has been on your mind ever since this started. So what's wrong?"

"Remember, we're family," Elora added. "Whatever it is, we'll understand."

Humbert paced away. He fought back the nervous laughter that was bubbling up in him. "Are you sure? Are you really sure of that? Because I... I can barely believe it myself... I wouldn't, if I weren't living it..." A trickle of the nerves broke through and half a laugh escaped through his lips; he quickly shut it down but couldn't stop the anxious running of his hands through his hair. "I mean, it literally goes against everything we've ever known about fairies. We were wrong. We've been wrong all this time."

"About the fairies?"

"Yes!"

He didn't see the silent exchanged passed momentarily between his parents.

"I think," Edmund said slowly, "that you should tell us exactly what has been going on."

Humbert stopped his pacing and a little of the fight left him. This had been such a big secret – something that he had struggled to keep hidden – and even with Machida's warning still ringing in his ears, he needed to tell someone. "The fairies... aren't evil," he sighed. "They're not... inherently out to get us or harm us; some are even capable of speech. They're not all dumb creatures."

"Humbert, who have you been talking to?"

He stumbled over silence, and then shook his head in defeat. "I don't know how to answer that."

"You've been talking with the fairies, haven't you?"

"Fairy. Singular," Humbert muttered, for some reason feeling the need to assure his parents that he had only been properly conversing with one fairy. He couldn't really claim that he had passed many friendly words between Machida.

"Fine. Fairy," Elora amended, but by the look on her face, Humbert could have been talking with a hundred fairies or only one and it would not have made one iota of difference to her. "Why? What happened?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, a week ago you were trying to convince us to set down traps for the creatures, and now you're preaching that they're rational animals?" his mother demanded. "So something happened. What?"

He had gone too far now to backtrack. Instead, he collapsed into one of his father's armchairs, dropping his head into his hands and staring at a nondescript patch of floor. "It started after the light display for the beginning of the festival," he said. "I went into the forest and I found... an injured fairy. A large one. I could have finished it there – anyone else would have – but I didn't." He chuckled lightly, but with no real heart. "I'm such an idiot."

"It didn't end there, did it though?" Elora prompted.

Humbert shook his head. "I came back. I kept coming back, and we started to become... friends." Again, had _friend_ and _fairy_ ever been coupled together? "I couldn't let her die... I won't let her die, but if anyone else were to hear about this..."

"Whoa, so this is one big fairy, right?" Edmund interrupted. "Humbert, people aren't going to take up arms against one injured fairy–"

"She's not just a fairy," Humbert added miserably. "She's a gryphon."

A long silence stretched out in the little office.

"Impossible," his father whispered.

"I know it seems that way, but she's definitely real." Huge and winged and very real. "She's not a monster."

"We never said she was," Elora sighed. "But that does... put a twist in the tale. Humbert... you have to stop going into the forest."

"I can't! I promised–!"

"You saw the guards today – your visits into the forest are already causing a stir," his mother snapped. "What will happen if your secret is discovered – if the guards find this gryphon? Do you have any idea what they'll do–?" Elora cut herself off with a sudden intake of breath.

Humbert's eyes hardened. "I've seen the wings in the palace," he said hoarsely. "I know exactly what will happen."

"Then you see your mother's logic?"

He looked away.

"Humbert, this is important. If there really is friendship between the two of you, then you must do what is best for all. If the gryphon can reason, then it will understand. No one wants history to repeat itself. Do you understand?"

"I... Yes."

"I think it'd be best if you... forgot about this entirely. For everyone's safety."

"But... we have such an opportunity here," Humbert murmured. "This could be the first step to bringing fairies and humans together. And... I promised her..."

"Humbert, please. No more forest excursions."

"I... Okay." Their son watched the two elder Gikkingens, confusion clouding his face. "If that's what you think, then why did you help the King with the last gryphon?"

Elora dropped her gaze, and Edmund returned to his books. "We all make mistakes."

ooOoo

Without his frequent detours into the forest, the days began to blur in grey monotony. Or that's how it felt at first; he had become so accustomed to the excitement and otherworldly wonder of the fairy forest that human life was a step down. But he quickly found that he fell surprisingly quickly back into mundane normality. Like slipping on old slippers, he clicked right back into the routine.

The summer festival had now wound down and finished, but there was still plenty to do. He still had more to learn about the light magic he wielded; there were still sessions at the Moon bakery; Louise still dropped by, and – all in all – human life was as busy as ever. He had packed away the notebook his father had given him, and hidden the many secrets it held between its pages. The sketches, the notes on fairy aversion to iron and salt water, the truth behind the fairy trees... no other human could ever see them.

He owed that much to Haru.

He had half expected the separation from Haru to hurt and, at the beginning, it did. His mind kept on flitting back to the wild child in the forest, but as time passed, so did the feeling. It was easier that way. The more he threw himself into ordinary life, the less he thought about his missing friend. And, truth be told, he was tired of keeping secrets. For the first time since the summer festival, he was no longer missing meetings or agreed dinners; he didn't have to worry about the soldiers or whether he was being followed; he didn't have to keep up a constant supply of excuses for his absence.

And yet, he still looked to the forest.

"Hey, Humbert – Humbert!"

He blinked and retreated from the recesses of his mind. He grinned ruefully at the young woman's face peering into his own. "Sorry, Louise; I was just..."

"Daydreaming. I know."

He pushed himself up, sitting up on the grassy park centring the town. It was summer, so of course the park was full of people and children and pets, all chatting and laughing and barking and occasionally running for a dip into the large pond – or perhaps small lake would be a better description – that glimmered in the middle. "What can I say? It's a beautiful day for daydreaming."

"Ya need to get yer head out of the clouds," Muta grunted. He had dragged a chair – that was somewhat sagging under his weight – and was idly flicking his way through a newspaper. By his side was a basket of picnic snacks. Or there had been originally; Humbert wasn't sure how much was left now, especially since Muta was sitting right beside it. "Nothing good ever came out of thinking too much."

"That's obviously something you're never going to be in danger of," Toto cackled.

A moment later half a bread bun hit his head.

"Say that again to my face, chicken legs!"

"Why? What are you going to do? It's not like you can ever catch me."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! I'd like to see you try!"

Humbert leant back into the grass as Muta took off after the fleeing Toto. A dry chuckle escaped his lips and he stared up at the blue, cloudless sky. As the sun beat down, he felt himself relaxing – and then he remembered seeing Haru rolling in the grass in her feline form, right after she had finally escaped from her coastal prison.

He winced and sat back up again. There were always moments when images from his time in the fairy forest came back with a vengeance.

"Humbert? What is it?"

He attempted a grin to Louise. "Nothing. Just... a sudden memory, that's all."

She looked at him for a moment longer, and then seemed to decide that she wasn't going to pry any further. That was something he was glad of; he'd had enough lying to last a lifetime recently. Instead, the moment was broken by Muta and Toto racing back towards them.

"Oh, dear lord, it's like watching an elephant on a rampage," Louise murmured faintly. She sidestepped as Toto fled around the chair and picnic basket, with Muta in hot pursuit. Muta paused long enough to hoist up the basket up in his hands, and then carried on running.

"Hey, Muta – that food's for everyone!" Louise shouted after him.

The man waved back to them and promptly began rummaging through the basket.

"Muta's faster than he looks, isn't he?" Humbert commented dryly.

"That wouldn't take much though. No, wait, he's slowing..."

Muta came to an unsteady halt the next time he came past them, nearly doubling over as he tried to reclaim his breath. "I really... hate you... sometimes," he managed.

Toto stopped just out of reach of the larger man. "Only sometimes?" he playfully asked.

Muta raised a podgy finger warningly in Toto's direction. "Don't test me."

"Oh, look at me... I'm _shaking_."

"Right, that's it!" Even still battling for breath, Muta leapt at Toto and there was an ungainly kerfuffle as both went down. Humbert and Louise calmly stepped away from the duo, far too accustomed to the others' antics. Louise managed to intercede long enough to reclaim the picnic basket and start rummaging through the remains.

"Sandwich?" she offered to Humbert.

"Thanks."

"What are we going to do about those two?"

"Well, the dungeon option is still on the table."

"I have better things to do than lugging them to the royal cells."

Humbert grinned ruefully to the woman. "Like what?"

"Like... oh, pedal boats!"

He turned just in time to see the blonde racing towards the shoreline. "Pedal boats?" he echoed.

She was already chatting to the owner and motioning for the others to join her.

"Hey, Humbert! Toto! Muta! GUYS!" she shouted when it was plenty apparent that Toto and Muta were still fighting. "Get over here!"

"What? Can't you see we're busy?" Muta shouted back.

"Don't make me come over there!"

Toto and Muta evidently decided they weren't going to risk it and – after a last elbow at each other – they joined the other two at the water's edge.

"Eh, Humbert; you sure you wanna do this?" Muta asked as he cautiously stepped into a boat. It rocked precariously at the sudden weight. "We all know yer not that fond of water."

"I'll be fine," Humbert answered. He stepped into the other boat, slipping in the seat beside Louise. "You'll see."

Muta chuckled and leant towards Humbert; the boat tipped dangerously to one side at the movement. "Ya sure?" he asked, grinning wickedly as he talked. "Last I checked, ya didn't know how to swim."

"I've been practicing," Humbert said. He started to pedal, stirring the boat away from the shore – and away from Muta. "Anyway, your boat will sink long before ours does!"

"Is that a fat joke? You get back here, fancypants! How do we get this thing moving?"

While Toto and Muta tried to co-ordinate their messy efforts, Louise and Humbert peddled further away. They later slowed – giving the others time to catch up – and Louise gave her friend a funny look. "When were you taking swimming lessons? I thought you hated the sea."

"Hate is a strong word."

"Fine. Disliked. You always said the forest and the town were more your environment than the ocean."

"I was trying something new," Humbert insisted. " _You_ always say that learning broadens the mind."

"I know, but I don't expect you to quote it back to me." Louise was silent for a moment, her gaze travelling over the calm water that separated them from the busy park beyond. "Humbert, do you remember the day we talked about the gryphon's wings?"

His foot suddenly missed the pedal and thudded painfully into the side of the boat. "What?"

"We talked in the palace before my father's exhibit, and I admitted that I disliked the wings and you... you admitted that you were hiding something." Now, suddenly, she turned her gaze on him; her bright blue eyes fixed on the young noble. "Should I still be worried for you?"

"No."

"Is that a no to stop me from worrying, or are you telling the truth?"

"No. It's the truth."

"Oh." Louise turned her gaze to the shore; anywhere but Humbert. "Can you tell me what it was then?"

"No. It's still... I mean, I still... have someone to protect."

"I guess I can understand that," she murmured.

Humbert leant forward, tucking back a stray curl of platinum-blonde hair from Louise's face. He tried a rueful smile. "You don't need to worry anymore," he assured. "Please, just trust me. It's over now. Life can finally go back to normal. I'm not sure when – or if ever – I'll be able to tell you exactly what went on, but it's done now. It's in the past."

A weak smile flickered at the corners of Louise's mouth. She tugged the stray lock back over her ear, letting it fall over her face. "Oh, how I'd love to believe that, Humbert. But secrets have a habit of coming to the light... and I just hope yours won't cost you too much."

Before Humbert could battle Louise's worry, their boat was rocked by Muta and Toto's pedal boat slamming into theirs. "Thought you could out-pedal us, huh?"

"Oh, is it a race you're looking for?" Louise snapped back, laughing, immediately falling back into her usual self. "You boys don't stand a chance."

"It's you who don't stand a chance!" Muta retorted. " _ReadysteadyGO_!"

"You're cheating, Muta," Humbert idly called out. He dropped his feet back into the pedals and, with Louise furiously pedalling, started after the other boat.

"Whatcha gonna do about it? Pedal faster, birdbrain!"

"The finishing line is the other shore!" Louise shouted. "Last boat back has to buy everyone ice cream!"

"Ha! You're on, princess! This will be like stealing candy from a baby!"

"Something which I'm sure you're familiar with," Toto remarked dryly.

The other boat abruptly slowed and rocked as Muta shoved his pedalling partner. "You think you're so smart, birdbrain."

"At least I don't resort to the same insult every time, butterball."

Humbert and Louise waved to the two as they pedalled past. "See you on the other side, boys," Louise teased. "I hope you've got your money ready."

"See what you did there?" Muta snapped to Toto.

" _Me_? I'm not the one who nearly upset the boat!"

"You should keep your clap shut."

"You should keep your idiotic temper under control," Toto retorted, shoving the other man. Big mistake. Muta shoved back – harder. Toto veered back towards the water, the boat tipping precariously and then dumping him straight into the lake. At the sudden loss of weight on one side, it rocked straight to the other and tipped Muta with an untidy splash in as well.

"We should stop," Humbert said.

"Hm, probably," Louise conceded. "I guess that is what would be the right thing to do. See if they're alright and everything..."

"Actually, I was also thinking that this would serve as a perfect gloating opportunity," said Humbert with an uncharacteristic smirk. "That said, I suppose they might need help. It may take a small eternity for them to co-ordinate themselves back into the boat otherwise; such things take teamwork – something which they do not particularly excel in."

Louise laughed and pedalled the boat back towards their friends – both of whom were trying to get back into the boat with exceptionally limited success.

"I see you decided to test out the waters!" she called to them.

"Ah, sure – come in, princess; the water's lovely!"

"I'll give it a miss this time, thanks."

"Are you sure we can't tempt you?" offered Toto. "Hey, fatso – hold your side of the boat so I can get in!"

"Not a chance – I'm getting in first!"

"You might as well swim to the shore," Humbert commented after several moments of watching the two swimming individuals try vainly to pull themselves back into the boat. "It'll be faster."

"Not a chance! I don't give up!"

"Really?" Toto snarked. "What happened to your New Year resolution to run every day, huh?"

"Shuttup."

"No, no; he's got a point," Louise laughed.

"Are ya sure you don't wanna join us? 'Cause I can arrange that," Muta threatened. Now with Louise and Humbert's boat close enough, he latched onto their side instead and pulled some of his weight against it, sending it rocking dangerously.

"Muta! Don't you dare!" Louise tried to shoo him away with a splash of cold lake water – which only made him rock the boat harder.

"Whatcha afraid of, blondie? Does a little water scare you?"

"Push me in and you'll be the one with something to be afraid of," Louise snarled.

Muta stared at the young woman, trying to gauge how serious he should take the threat. He shrugged. "Fine," he said, and promptly upturned the boat.

There was a strangled scream as both individuals hit the water and then pushed back up through the surface, spluttering and furiously gasping for breath.

"MUTA!"

"I didn't push you in!"

"Technicalities!"

Humbert bobbed at the surface while Louise attempted to chase Muta – a scene that was somewhat hindered by the fact that neither were particularly fast swimmers – and gently trod the water. He supposed he should thank Haru for getting him to swim in the first place; all the same, he had one hand clinging to the upturned keel to steady himself.

He carefully swam the metre between the two boats, coming to a stop beside the other one. All the while, he watched his friends, a smile rising unbidden to his lips. He pulled himself into the second boat – a feat that almost ended in upturning that one also – and pushed his sodden hair out of his eyes.

He blinked away the water to see a collection of blue uniforms standing at the shoreline – waving and shouting frantically at them.

"Oh, boy; what do they want?" Louise pulled herself ungainly into the boat beside Humbert, and glowered at the royal guards fringing the lake. "If this is another 'it's not ladylike' lecture, I swear I'll make them eat their boots."

"I... don't think that is what this is about," Humbert said.

"Well, there's only one way to find out." She dropped her feet onto the pedals and started the boat going. "Quick, comrades – to the shore!" she shouted with a dramatic gesture to the guards. "Post-haste!"

"And I thought fancypants was the dramatic one," Muta muttered.

"Go ahead, you two," said Toto. "We'll right this boat and then be with you in a moment."

"If they can barely get into a boat, how are they ever going to even right it?" Humbert wondered quietly, but he still pushed on. "Is everything alright?" he asked, as the boat hit the shore. He hoisted himself out, and waded through the shallows. "What's happened?"

The next words froze his heart.

"It's the forest, Master Gikkingen. A gryphon has been caught in the forest."


	8. A Slippery Slope

Louise was the first to react upon hearing the news. She jumped out of the boat and waded to the water's edge. "A gryphon?" she echoed. "But that's ridiculous. Everyone knows my father slew the last one."

The young guard gave a nervous grin. "I don't know, Your Highness; I'm only relaying the news."

"A gryphon?" Baron demanded. He pushed forward. "Are you sure?"

"Like I said – I'm only the messenger." The guard turned to Louise. "Your father wants you to return to the palace for your own safety, Your Highness."

"But if the gryphon is caught, what's the problem?" she asked.

Baron saw a chink of hesitation in the guard's expression. "It... _is_ caught, right?" he prompted. "When you say _caught_..."

"Well, _technically_ , it is." The guard gave another nervous grin. "But the other fairies keep on chasing off the other guards when they try to take it back to the town. Not that it's going to make any difference – they can't beat us off indefinitely. It looks like the King is going to have another trophy to add to his collection."

Baron felt sick. Almost physically so. He backed away, his shoes kicking back into the shoreline.

"I... I have to go..."

"Go? Go where?" Louise demanded. "Humbert–"

"I... Home," he settled on. "My... parents will want to know about this; you know about my father's interest in fairies... He'll never believe that a gryphon... a real live gryphon..."

Another guard chuckled. "It's not going to be live for long, trust me."

"I... I realised." He gave Louise a quick embrace and started to run back through the park. "I have to go!"

Muta and Toto dragged themselves back to the shore just in time to see him disappearing back into the town. Muta wrangled his sleeves to try to dry them off, glancing after their friend. "What's got his pants in a twist?"

"I don't know."

"What did he say?"

"Just... that he's got to go." Louise's frown deepened and she turned to the guards who had come to collect her. "I imagine you lot are rather busy, what with the sudden turn of events, and you'd rather be doing something else rather than rounding up wayward princesses, and this place is really very full today, so I'm sure my father wouldn't be able to blame you if, you know, you hadn't been able to find me..."

"I'm sorry, Your Highness, but your father gave strict orders on the matter."

Louise deflated. "I was afraid you would say that." She looked back to where she had last seen Humbert, and the frown deepened with stubborn determination. She could read Humbert's lies like a book; she knew he wasn't returning home.

In which case there was only one other place he would be going in just such a situation.

The only question was how she was going to shrug off her well-meaning guards long enough to get to the forest. She glanced to Muta and Toto with a telling smile.

Luckily, she wasn't on her own.

ooOoo

It was crazy.

The whole thing was crazy, really. The forest was a huge place, and he had no idea where in the whole wood the trap was laid. And, even if he did find his way there, then he still had guards to deal with and the trap to undo – and that was only assuming the fairies wouldn't get in the way. There was no certainty that they wouldn't take him for one of the other humans who had come to take Haru away.

For it could only be Haru.

And so he ran.

He ran, until his heart was pounding and his lungs were heaving and still he wouldn't allow himself to stop. He kept replaying the image of the broken wings in the cabinet, and he couldn't ignore the thought of Haru's wings severed and mounted as mere trophies alongside them.

Of what they would have to do to put those wings there.

Eventually something had to give, and he tripped over a tree root, sprawling straight to the ground. He lay there, his heart still pounding and his breath ragged, and now he could feel his body trying to compensate for the relentless sprint he had just forced himself through. His heart physically hurt as it pounded against his chest and the tears – of anger, fear, or pain; he couldn't tell – squeezed past his eyes.

To think that he would put so much on the line – to even entertain the thought of treason, to go against his King's rule – all for the sake of a _fairy_... and a _gryphon_ at that... well, it simply should have been unthinkable. But as he regained his breath, he knew that he was going to get up again and carry on anyway.

He started to push himself onto his elbows when huge paws landed on him and pinned him down.

"Machida–" His voice, constricted by his wheezing lungs, could barely gasp out the words. He pushed weakly against the fairy feline keeping him trapped. "Machida! It's me!" The weight of the creature began cutting into him and he pushed at it with renewed vigour. To his surprise, Machida moved off him – but not out of choice. Tired as he was, the fairy seemed even more so, for he stumbled as he landed back to the ground.

"It's your fault." Machida's words were guttural, shifted by the feline form he took which was so unaccustomed to speech. "She would never have lowered her guard if she still knew to still fear the stench of humans."

"Where is she?"

Machida glanced once back into the deepening forest, and then his dark seeing eye snapped back to Baron. His mouth curled into a snarl and the human had the sudden knowledge that Machida would feel no guilt in taking his teeth to his neck. "Why are you here?"

"Why do you think?" Baron snapped back. He rubbed gingerly at the arm Machida had pinned down, massaging feeling back into the numb limb. He looked over the fairy that, under any normal circumstances, he wouldn't have had the faintest chance of pushing off.

The fairy feline was marked by new burn streaks running along his form, a decided limp and weakness in his stature. Baron abruptly knew why he was still standing.

"You need me," he said.

The fairy's silence said it all.

The words slipped out again. "You need me, don't you? The guards' trap... it's iron, isn't it?" He knew he was correct. Not that the guards knew about the fairies' allergies to iron; they had simply got lucky. "That's how they've caught her, isn't it? You need a human to free her."

"Believe me, I would not lower myself to pleading for a pathetic _human's_ help if it wasn't for Haru's life on the line," Machida growled.

A returning growl curled at the edge of Baron's lips. "I know you have no respect for humans, and that I understand after all we've done to you and your kind, but I am here now. And although you may not believe me, I do care for her."

"How could a human care for a fairy?"

"In my town, we would wonder how a fairy could ever care for a human," Baron returned. "It all depends on which side of the city wall you lie and we are both at fault for demonising the other." When there was a long silence from Machida, Baron added softly, "Do you really think I want Haru's wings to decorate the palace walls?"

Machida paused a moment longer. "No," he admitted. "Only a monster would wish such a thing on another person."

Baron felt that for a long time, all humans had been monsters to Machida. He keenly felt the distinction he had just been granted. "In that case, you should probably show me to Haru. More guards will be coming soon to take her away."

"Then we don't have a moment to lose."

Machida turned and started into a run along the forest path, but he had only gone a few steps before his recent limp turned on him and his legs buckled beneath him. He pushed himself back up, and Baron gently rested a hand on the quivering feline's back. "You can't run in that state. Just how much damage does iron do?"

"The burns are crueller than I thought," Machida admitted with a hiss. "And we fairies don't do well to stay in proximity of the metal."

And yet Haru was caught within an iron cage...

Baron didn't allow himself to finish that thought. "We'll just have to walk then; I don't know my way about this place well enough to find her."

"Are you a fool? We don't have time for such time-wasting!"

"What other choice do we have?" Baron retorted. "You'll collapse if you try to run in that state and then I'll have two fairies to save. I need you to show me the way."

Machida gave him a scornful stare and started to limp through the forest. "Don't pretend you care for me."

"Maybe not," Baron admitted. "But Haru does. And I care for her."

There was another long pause as they worked their way along a path that seemed only visible to Machida. The fairy was the first to break the uneasy silence.

"Maybe... I mistook you. I thought you were just another thoughtless human." He hesitated and then reluctantly added, "I'm sorry."

Baron exhaled slowly. "Don't be. That's exactly what I was before I met Haru. I mistook you fairies for nothing more than mindless, brutal beasts."

"You and the rest of the human race."

"Thanks," Baron said dryly.

"It seems, then, that we are both at fault for our hasty assumptions."

"If even we can learn, then there is hope for our people yet."

Machida released a low, huffing laugh. "Your optimism astounds me."

"Do you really think our two races will never have peace?" Baron asked.

"Do you really think anything will be great enough to bridge our differences?"

"Are we really so different though? We're still... people."

"Few would see it that way." Machida padded to a halt and swayed uneasily where he stood. Baron lowered a hand to the feline's side and steadied him against the weakness that still resided from the iron burns. From where they were now, Baron could make out the opening of a clearing with a small gathering of soldiers – and, in pride of place, a cage containing their prize.

Baron felt the inaudible growl tremble through Machida's body. Baron tightened his grip on the fairy's fur to prevent him from running straight into the clearing.

"It won't do any good to attack in your state," he said.

"Don't tell me. I know," Machida hissed. "I tried it once before, but even when I did drive the humans back, I still couldn't break her free." His working eye flickered to Baron. "Why do you think I need you?"

"Touché." Baron's gaze travelled over the scene again, picking up on a detail he had missed in the first glance. In the trees and the bushes, fairies – both in their feline and humanoid form, however small – stood guard between the humans and their only gryphon. If a guard wandered too close, their hackles would rise and they would hiss until the man retreated. And the guards didn't look too tempted to try to fight their way past just yet – most had heard the exaggerated tales of the small fairies' nasty bite and, regardless, they would soon have the backup to drive the creatures away.

"We need to get the guards away from Haru," Baron muttered. "I won't be able to free her with them there."

"Are you asking me to serve as a _distraction_?"

"I'll take any ideas you have coming."

Machida paused. "Distraction it is then."

Baron caught the fairy's fur. "Don't harm the humans. They are only doing what they have been taught is right."

Machida scoffed and pushed forward. "I'll be sure to spare your precious people," he muttered, but there was an unexpected sincerity in his words.

The human stopped Machida once again. "And... be careful yourself."

The fairy gave him a rare, glittering smile. "Don't worry about me. I've been caught by your kind before."

He shrugged off Baron's hold and padded almost idly into the clearing. Baron pushed himself into the shadows to watch the encounter.

The guards took a moment or two to spot the huge cat stalking towards them, but it was obvious when that moment happened. The weapons that had been idly lying by their sides – so sure that the main threat was caged before them – were raised and the cacophony of tiny fairy growls rose with them. The fear in the guards' eyes made Baron wonder whether they had already encountered Machida; the burns along his side indicated that he had certainly clashed with the cage at least once already.

He slid further behind the tree and looked away, wincing at the clash of the huge fairy's roar and the shouts of the terrified men.

This is how it would be. Always. Machida had been right; perhaps they as individuals could overcome their differences but how could their two races ever come together? What could possibly turn around generations of hatred and fear?

At least in this situation it was serving a purpose. The fear was driving the humans away, giving him the chance to save Haru. He waited as Machida chased the terrified guards off into the forest, listening as the cacophony died away into the distance. The moment they were safely gone, he slipped around the tree and out into the clearing.

"Haru...?"

The creature in the cage barely stirred, but he immediately recognised the feline, winged form of the fairy. He dropped straight down to the cage's side and eased an arm between the bars, brokenly brushing the fairy's side.

"Haru... I'm so sorry..."

The creature shifted and a dark eye blinked slowly open. She kept her wings close around her, too afraid to brush against the burning iron that served as her prison. "You came back..."

"Of course I came back," Baron said. "Why wouldn't I?"

He shifted his hand to the fairy's cheek and she dropped her furry head into his hold. A painful purr worked its way through her. "You left. I thought..."

"Well, you thought wrong. I'm back now." A sob threatened to break in his throat and he blinked away the first signs of tears. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I'm so sorry. This is all my fault – if only I hadn't..."

"Hadn't what?" Haru asked. Even though, in her feline form her voice was more guttural than usual, she still managed something akin to a chuckle. "Hadn't spared a gryphon? Hadn't freed her? Hadn't befriended her? Or maybe you regret finding me at all."

"No, it's not that! It would never be that. I only wish..." and in his mind he relived their first, unintentional meeting, "that I could rewrite the past."

Haru forced another purr. "Now, now, Baron; why would you ever wish to undo any of this?" She pushed her feline face against his palm, carefully avoiding touching the iron bars around her. "Do you really regret our friendship that much? It was my own stupidity for mistaking the human guards for you... You are not to blame here."

"To blame or not, you can't stay in this cage any longer," Baron growled. He carefully released the fairy's head and moved back to inspect her prison. The entire contraption was an array of iron bars, padlocked at the front. He released with a sinking feeling that he had no experience whatsoever with breaking locks open.

"How much do you know about lock-picking?" he asked after a dubious moment.

This was something they really should have considered before now.

"Fine rescue this turned out to be," Haru murmured. The tiredness from the close proximity with the iron was draining at her reserves.

"Hey – no – don't fall asleep on me," Baron ordered. He clicked his fingers several times in front of the bars. "I need you awake."

"No, you don't," Haru yawned.

"Yes, I do. How else am I going to move a gryphon? Come on, just stay awake."

"But I've been tired for so long..."

"No, don't do this on me," Baron muttered. He cast around his gaze furiously for something that would be of help. Unsurprisingly there were no helpful keys just lying around. He selected a broken branch from the ground and tested it in his hands. It was a solid thing, nicely heavy in his grip. "Talk to me, Haru. Tell me something – anything. Talk about something you remember."

"Must I?"

"If it'll keep you awake, yes!" He didn't know whether falling asleep would do damage to the fairy further – or if she would ever wake up while so intoxicated with the iron around her – but he didn't dare risk it. "What's the most vivid memory you have?"

"Recently? Oh, that'd be easy..." Haru murmured. "The day I was shot down..."

Baron paused in his positioning of the branch against the bars. "What?"

"I had... never actually seen a human before..." the fairy said, too tired to hear the sharp tone in Baron's voice. "Machida had always... told me such horrible stories about your sort... but I would watch the light displays your kind would do every year..."

Baron fitted the branch beneath one of the bars, slotting it tightly into place. But now he paused. "Go on."

"And I would wonder... how such terrible people... could make such beautiful lights. So that one night I flew off to see the lights... and there was this human standing atop this tower. Oh, he was weaving the firefly lights into _such_ pretty pictures... I had to get closer..."

Baron leant against the branch, pushing leverage onto the joint of the cage, but his attention was focused solely on the fairy's words. He knew what was coming next. "And then?"

"The rest blurs into pain and light, but... I have one residing memory. I remember his face."

Baron's grip slipped on the branch. He quickly righted it. "What?"

"Not clearly, not anymore... I don't really remember anything of his features – I guess it would be more accurate to say I remember the expression. He saw me... and there was only fear and hatred."

There was a sudden crack as the hinges came loose on the cage. The door swung forward and Baron sidestepped it, hurriedly pulling the fairy free through the opening. He was just about to admit he was struggling with her huge feline weight when her shape dissolved away to leave her human form. She collapsed into his arms, her wings sagging uselessly behind her.

"At that moment," she murmured, her voice suddenly soft with its human throat, "I was so afraid that all humans were like that..."

"Humbert?"

Baron jumped around – or, at least, he would have if his arms weren't weighed down with the now-unconscious fairy. His brain took a moment to realise who the speaker was. His voice was quicker. "Louise?"

There was a blur of black and the young princess was abruptly pinned by an irate fairy.

Baron, slowed by Haru in his arms, grabbed a handful of the creature's fur and tugged hard. "MACHIDA! She's not your enemy!"

"SHE'S A HUMAN!" Machida roared.

"As am I."

And, again, Baron could see the world as the rest knew it. Fairy against human.

Nothing was ever going to change.

"She's a danger," Machida growled.

"She's a friend."

Machida stared across at Baron, and finally said, "She'll bring the guards down on us."

"They're probably already on their way back–" at least, that was assuming Machida had kept his promise and left them all in one piece "–so we haven't got any time to stand around here arguing. She's a friend, I said – release her."

Machida's good eye turned balefully to him, but he slowly stepped off the woman. "I hope you don't come to regret this."

"As do I," Baron added beneath his breath. Keeping Haru steady against him, he watched as Louise pushed herself up and stared daggers at the other human.

"What–"

"How long have you been watching?" Baron interjected.

"Since practically the beginning, I suspect. I managed to persuade Toto and Muta to distract the guards while I slipped away; I knew you must have headed to the forest – goodness knows it's the only place you ever go nowadays – so it was merely a case of finding out where in the forest you were. I came in time to see you talking to _it_ –" she nodded angrily to Machida, and after their first meeting Baron supposed he couldn't blame her "–and then followed you from thereon in."

"And you only stepped in now?"

"For one, you had that creature with you–" and again she nodded to Machida "–and, two, I wanted to see whether you would actually do it. You know, save a gryphon."

Baron glanced to the fairy in his arms. "Well, you have your answer." After a moment, he glanced to Machida. "Were we really being followed all that time and you didn't sense a thing?"

"I thought all the human smell was coming from you," Machida answered. "Also, I wasn't in the most capable of states." His attention focused, as always, back to Haru. "We need to get her away from here. Before the guards come back; I led them on a pretty chase but they'll be here any moment."

"I know." Carefully folding Haru's wings out of the way, Baron hoisted the fairy into his arms. Across her arms – and everywhere where she had made contact with the iron bars that had served as the cage floor – burn marks streaked across her skin. Burns that, he knew, would never heal. Not even with the fairy tree's healing powers.

But she was alive.

Louise stepped before him. "Do you honestly think I'm going to just let you walk out of here with... with...?"

"With what, Louise?" Baron asked. He shifted his hold so that the young princess could fully see the burden he carried. "Look at her. She may have wings... but she's no different to you or I." He made no attempt to cover the burns marring her. " _Look at her, Louise_. She can't be any older than us. She's young and she's injured and she needs help. I cannot leave her."

He lifted his gaze from the injured fairy to the woman before him. Both so similar in ways they didn't even realise. Louise stood staring at Haru, her hands balled into fists at her sides and her shoulders tense. There was shock in her gaze as she fully saw the tender age and the wounds of the other woman. She blinked, and there were suddenly tears in her eyes."Dammit, Humbert; your kindness is going to get you killed one of these days."

"Thank you, Louise." He leant in to kiss her on the cheek, but she forcefully pushed him away.

"Don't..." She trailed off, unable or unaware of how she was planning on ending that sentence. "Look, just go. I'll stay here and... explain what happened. They'll believe me; they'll have to. I'll say another fairy broken her free while they were gone... They won't even know you were here."

"Louise... I really don't deserve you."

"No. You don't. Now go, before I change my mind."

"Thank you."

"Where – Where are you planning on taking her?" Louise glanced back to the retreating group, her eyes solidly fixed on Baron as if to remind herself why she was doing this. "The forest won't be safe for her anymore. You know that my father will rip up this place apart to find her now he knows that she exists."

"I know. I... don't know where she'll be safe. Right now my only priority is away from here." He paused, and then Louise saw the sudden realisation and following intention in his eyes.

"No," she said. "No, you're not–"

"Like you said, she can't remain in the forest. Give it a day – forget it, give it an _hour_ – and this place is going to be crawling with humans."

"If anyone sees you, you'll be held up for treason–"

"Then I'll have to be careful then, won't I?"

Louise paused. Her eyes flickered over Haru's unconscious form; looking but no longer really seeing anymore. "Humbert, if you're charged with treason... even I won't be able to save you." She blinked and tears clouded her vision; she shook them angrily away. "You can't die, you hear me? You can't die!"

A moment later she seemed embarrassed by her outburst, but her eyes were still stubborn and fierce.

"Don't die."

Baron smiled sadly and moved towards the beautiful blonde. He shifted his hold on Haru so that the fairy's head was supported by the crook of his arm, and reached out with his freed hand. This time, Louise didn't knock him away as he approached. His fingers brushed at the tears rolling down Louise's cheeks, and he brought her face forward until their foreheads were lightly touching, his bright eyes filling her gaze.

"I'll do my best," he whispered. "Thank you, Lou."

He released her and started to move away, but Louise interceded before he was fully out of reach. She placed a quick kiss on his cheek and then backed away. Her eyes flickered to the unconscious Haru still held in Baron's arms. "Good luck."

Machida, for all his faults, was tactful enough to hold his tongue until they had put a good distance between them and Louise.

"So what was all that about?"

Baron passed a hesitant hand over his cheek, as the phantom kiss still lingered on his skin. "I think it was a blessing." A smile tugged uneasily at his lips. "She's accepted that I have to do this."

The fairy glanced over to the human, limping slowly beside him. "Is she really just a friend?" Machida asked.

"She used to be. And then... it started to grow into something more..." Baron became aware of the burden he was carrying; Haru's wings were trailing over his arms and were nearly brushing the ground below. He tried to change his hold to keep her feathers clear from the dirt. "But I suppose... I began to get so caught up with this world..." ' _With Haru_ ,' his mind amended. "Well, I don't know. I got distracted. I began to forget about the human world. About my friends."

"Talking about the human world, are you really planning to go back there?"

"Like I told Louise, the forest will be too dangerous for Haru now. The King will not rest until he finds her, and he might burn down the whole forest to do it."

"But you cannot keep her hidden in the human town forever. Sooner or later, she'll be discovered."

"She doesn't need to be here forever. Just until she has regained her strength."

"We could go to the trees for that," Machida growled, impatient with the conversation. "They'll heal her far quicker than your pokey human medicine could ever try."

"And how would we get her to the trees?" Baron demanded. "She's in no shape to fly and you are still injured. Even in this form, I could not carry her up to the flower canopy. Anyway," he added, glancing back down to the form in his arms, "you know as well as I do that the trees will not be able to heal the iron burns. Right now, the most important thing is rest."

"Even if I did agree to let you take Haru into the human settlement, where would you plan on taking her?" Machida demanded. "How would you even be able to sneak her in?"

Baron caught his step and brought himself to a gentle halt.

"Hah, looks like you didn't think of everything."

"My home. It's... right on the brink of the town and should be the easiest place to take her in." Even so, it didn't sit right beside the forest; they would still risk being seen by other people. And all it would take would be one curious watcher, one passerby, for Haru to be seen.

And they could both agree that was not a risk they were willing to take.


	9. Heritage

In the end, Baron decided to enter his home alone, leaving Machida and Haru hidden in the forest for now. And this time he wasn't trying to sneak in. He practically crashed through the door to his mother's apothecary and was very relieved to see it was just his parents present this time. "Mother, Father–"

Before he could get any further, he was swept up into the tight embrace of his mother. "Humbert! You're back!" She released him and peered into his eyes. "News has spread of the gryphon, so we thought that... No matter, you're here now..."

As he was dragged back into another hug, Baron managed to muffle, "What did you think?"

Edmund ruffled his son's hair affectionately. "We were worried you were going to run off and do something rash."

Baron paled. "Um, yes... about that..."

Just as suddenly, he found himself released from his mother's iron grip. Once again, he was given a scrutinising glare from the woman. "Humbert. What have you done?"

Well, it was too late to back out of it now. He regained his lost colour and started to blush instead. "I... may have broken the gryphon out of its cage..." he murmured.

"WHAT?"

"...and then brought her to the edge of the forest with another fairy's help, with plans to hide her here while the King's men comb the forest," he finished. There was a long pause, and he added, in a yet smaller voice, "And Louise might now know about it too." He winced and closed his eyes for his family's explosion, but it seemed he had stunned them into silence. "Please say something."

Elora groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Oh, Humbert..."

"Are you angry?"

"Angry that you saved an innocent creature from murder? No. Angry that you've got yourself so deeply involved in this without consulting anyone else beforehand? Very possibly."

"Elora, what's done is done," Edmund sighed, patting his wife's shoulder. He spared a smile to his son. "We probably should be proud that he isn't repeating the mistakes of his parents."

"Of course I'm proud of him." She turned to Humbert and repeated with, "Of course I'm proud of you. But a mother's priority is the safety of her child, and so I cannot help but worry about protecting you. I mean, really Humbert... a _gryphon_? You could not have picked a more dangerous situation if you had tried."

"Haru isn't dangerous, Mother."

"No. But people are. You don't understand, but my generation – the generation currently in charge – remember the fear of the gryphons. They will lash out at her, lash out at _you_ , if they learn about this..."

"She can't go back to the forest, Mother," Baron implored. "She's too weak to get back into the canopy, and if she stays on the ground she will be found within hours. The town is the safest place for her for now. Please. She's hurt. I know you regret helping to hurt the previous gryphon, well – here's your chance to undo some of that damage!"

"Alright, alright, Humbert." Elora paused and ran one hand through her tawny hair. "You've made your case."

"And?" he prompted. "I don't mean to rush you, but Haru – the gryphon – is half-collapsed out there and I need to know what my options are. I need to find a way to keep her safe."

His mother motioned for him to cease prattling. "What we _need_ is to find a way to bring her here without being seen," she said. She grinned and started to rummage through the cupboards of her apothecary. "Luckily for you, your old mother knows a few more tricks than simply curing hay fever."

Baron glanced to his father, who merely grinned back at him. "Oh, you should have seen her in her youth. All fire and brimstone."

"You say that as if she doesn't still have the capacity to scare me witless," Baron whispered back.

A drawstring pouch was thrown at him. He caught it and gave the unassuming item a bemused look. "What is this?"

"A little concoction of mine. Take it down to the stream and pour the contents into the water," Elora instructed him. "It'll create a low mist that should cover enough area for you to move the gryphon safely here." She shrugged and added, "If it still has its full potency, it might even disrupt the soldiers' search in the forest, but that might be asking for too much. Well, you should hurry. You haven't got much time to spare."

ooOoo

Machida wasn't quite so convinced of the alleged power of the bag's contents. He expressed this as vocally as he dared, which Baron studiously ignored. He had had enough practice with Toto and Muta, so it wasn't too difficult. He tried not to gloat when, on following his mother's instructions, the immediate area was flooded with rolling fog.

Once the mist had spread out to the edge of the town, Baron took Haru into his arms and returned to the brink of the forest. By this point, the fog had thickened to the extent that, had he not known the terrain, he would have retained little clue as to how to return home.

"You should probably head back into the forest," Baron instructed. "This is going to be risky enough with just Haru."

"Do you honestly think I'd allow you to leave my sight with her?" Machida snarled.

"Do you honestly think we have much choice? Look, I can't hide both of you here."

"I should be there to protect her."

"I know. But the other fairies are going to need your protection too," Baron said. "Haru told me that the other fairies look up to her – well, now she's going to be away and, from the sound of things, you're the only other fairy around to take her place. For now." He paused, and then added, "And, that said, I need you to do a favour for me."

Machida's expression said volumes.

"I need you to bring back one of the flowers from your trees. Not one of the large ones, obviously," he quickly said. "Just... one of the small buds." He motioned a flower the size of his palm as well as he could with Haru still in his arms. "Please."

"Why?"

"Haru told me about them, about how they heal and sustain your kind. I know that they won't work unless picked by a fairy and given willingly, which is why I need your help."

" _Our kind_ ," Machida retorted, "need to sleep inside them in order to remain rested. How do you intend to achieve any of that with a picked flower?"

"I probably won't, but my mother is well-versed in creating salves and potions. It is possible that she could make a concoction that might help Haru recover faster. And, the faster she recovers, the sooner she'll be able to make it back into the canopy."

Machida scowled, but nodded. "If anything happens to her..."

"I know, I know. You'll hunt me down." He glanced to the fog pressed down around them. "I have to go now, before my mother's potion wears off. I promise, I will keep her safe."

"Given humanity's last brush with gryphons, forgive me if I'm not too eager to take you at your word," the fairy retorted. His feline eyes shifted to the unconscious Haru in the young human's arms, and a little of the sharpness dissolved in favour of worry. "Don't let history repeat itself."

Baron's eyes followed Machida's gaze, and his grip on his friend tightened. He nodded understandingly to the fairy and headed into the depths of the fog. Even as his vision became saturated with white, the worry that he was going to be spotted still nagged in his mind. He pushed on until he reached the familiar terrain of his home's back door, and stepped inside to be greeted with his father waiting in the hallway.

Edmund's eyes were immediately drawn to the young woman – and then, as to be expected, to the wings trailing from her back. He tentatively took a step towards them, hands outreached to touch the wings before he remembered his manners. He drew back, but couldn't resist the almost-reverent tone in his voice as he asked, "Is this her?"

"Edmund, not now." Elora pushed in from her office, her arms bundled up with herbs and remedies. "Humbert, take her to the spare room upstairs. Edmund, bring some water. And, for goodness sake, stave off your questions until our guest has rested."

"Mother, we may have a problem there."

Elora juggled her potions as she opened the door to the guest room, and stood back for her son to carry Haru through. "And why is that?"

"You see, Father was right – fairies do rely on the trees for their survival–"

"What?" Edmund shouted up the stairs. "Hang on, I'm coming!"

"This isn't time for your research!" Elora shouted back.

There was a scuffle, and, a hassled thirty seconds later, the elder Baron von Gikkingen was at the doorway with a jug of water and one of his notebooks balanced between his fingers. A pencil was tucked behind his ear in a last-minute thought. "I know, but look at what we have here! Humbert, what were you saying about the trees?"

Elora retrieved the water jug with a steely stare and set it down on the bedside table. "Please, go on, Humbert. Ignore your father."

"The fairies need the flowers in the trees to... I'm not sure I fully understand it, but they sleep in them. The flowers heal and restore them. Without the trees, they would die within a week. Sooner, I expect, for the smaller fairies."

"But we don't have any such flowers to hand."

"And researchers have done multiple tests on the properties of the fairy trees," Edmund added. "When they can get to them, anyway. There's never been any record of any part of the trees having healing abilities."

"Not if a human picks them," Humbert said. "But, apparently, if a flower is gifted to a human from a fairy, then it might still retain its original properties. I'm working on getting a flower here, in which case, do you think you could create some sort of... tonic or something that might help Haru?"

"I would have to see this flower first," Elora said, "but there's no reason why I can't try. Now – out."

Both men started to protest.

Elora waved them away with a sharp gesture. "No, none of that, you two. I can hardly tend to our patient while you stand watching, can I? Trust me, Humbert; I'll do everything I can."

Her son grimaced, but admitted defeat. "Thank you, Mother."

"Don't thank me until we're out of this safely. And, next time, do tell us when you plan on throwing our lives into questionable treason, okay, dear?" She patted his cheek in a deliberately patronising manner and then shooed both of them out. "Now, get going. I'm sure your father has many, _many_ questions he wants to ask of you."

Elora watched them leave before turning back around to their guest. She brought out her medical kit and started to dab at the mud marring the fairy's face. At the contact, the woman groaned and stirred. Her eyes eased themselves open and Elora suddenly found herself caught in a very human gaze.

"Who...? Who are you?"

"Shush. It's going to be alright, sweetheart. I'm Elora, Humbert's mother."

The fairy frowned. "Humbert? Oh... you mean Baron..."

Elora hesitated. She made a mental note to ask about this to her son later. "I suppose I do."

The fairy moved as if to sit up on the bed, and then thought better of it. Instead, she rolled her head from one side to the other to appraise her new location. Slow realisation dawned upon her. "Where...? Where am I? This is the human town, isn't it?"

"Indeed. My son brought you here to keep you safe."

The fairy twisted her head to get a better look at the human, her dark eyes examining Elora's face. After a moment, she seemed to find what she had been looking for. "You look a lot like him."

Elora smiled gently. "That's one I don't often hear. Humbert takes after his father in so many ways."

"You have the same eyes."

"I... suppose we do."

The fairy managed a tired, and perhaps even slightly pained, smile. "I'm Haru."

"I know, darling. Now, hush; you need to sleep."

"Sleep won't help. Not without the flowers..."

Elora continued to clean off the worst of the mud from Haru's face. She was relieved to see it was only dirt and not open injuries that she seemed to have sustained on her head, but her sharp eyes picked out the more permanent marks along the fairy's arms. "Even so, some rest will do you good." She gently shifted Haru's arm to get a better look at the scarring and almost didn't hide the wince.

Haru heard the hushed intake of breath, but she didn't look to her arms. Her eyes stayed carefully away from the markings, as if all-too-familiar with them. "You can't help."

"That's not going to stop me from trying," Elora growled. She began to rummage furiously through her medical kit for one of her burn salves until a weak hand curled itself around her arm.

"Iron burns... never heal," Haru murmured. Her gentle grip on Elora's arm tightened as strongly as she could manage in her current state. "Not even the flowers can undo it."

Elora's gaze dropped to the burns, and this time it lingered. She could tell where the iron bars had made contact with the young fairy's skin, for strips of burns ran along both arms to varying extents, and along her left shoulder. They looked like they continued further along her body, but she couldn't tell for now. "At least let me tend to them," she said. "I can clean and bind them, so they won't become infected, and one of my salves should lessen the pain. Just because I cannot heal them completely doesn't mean I cannot help."

Haru watched silently as Elora retrieved a disinfectant salve. A hiss escaped her lips as the stinging ointment was applied, but she did not complain otherwise. "I can see Baron inherited a lot more from you than just your eyes," she said after a few minutes of calm silence. "I can't believe there are many humans who would help a fairy."

Elora slowed in her work, and a moment of guilt flickered across her features. "We have not always been so kind," she murmured. "Many years ago, my husband and I made a mistake we have never been able to forgive ourselves for. We have spent all those years since trying to come to terms with our actions. I guess you could say that you have given us the chance to amend our mistake."

"I... I do not understand."

"Oh, I think you do. You merely wish not to." Elora withdrew her hands and the salve away from Haru, even as the fairy leant, wide-eyed, away from her. "You look just like her."

" _You_... _It_... I thought it was the King who stole my mother's wings," Haru whispered, horror pouring into her every syllable. She looked like she wished she could crawl out of the house, if only her limbs were strong enough. "I..."

"It was the King who did the deed itself, but he could never have achieved it without the help of Edmund and I. We gave him the necessary tools to sever the wings... the sleeping draught and a dagger steeped in rumours of gryphon slaying... My husband and I have not changed our trade since then, but our purpose in using our skills has altered; Edmund now prefers to use his knowledge of fairies to better understand the relationship between your kind and ours, while I turned my potion skillset to healing rather than for more volatile uses. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

"But why?" Haru demanded. She was pushing herself up, even as her wings quivered with the joint effort and emotion. "Why did you take her wings? I thought... I thought..." She shook her head and the tears pooling in her eyes went flying. Her voice began to rise as she motioned shakily to her half-tended arms. "After taking me in and doing all this... I thought you were good people! I thought Baron…" She shook her head sharply and carried on. "I don't understand how you can do this after... after being the ones to take my mother's wings!"

Elora was silent for a long moment, before finally managing, "It's... complicated..."

Haru gave a sobbing laugh. "Oh, it's complicated? You should see my life!"

"We made a mistake."

"And now you're doing all this to try and, what? Restore your conscious?" the fairy snapped. "Ease your guilt? This isn't about me at all, is it? This is just about your family trying to make up for what you did – well, let me just tell you, if you're looking for forgiveness, you're not going to find it here–"

"This was never about forgiveness. This is about helping you, whatever you may think. I just... felt that you deserved to know the truth. At least, as far as I know it."

"I don't want to hear it," Haru muttered.

The dismissal was clear in the fairy's voice, but Elora lingered for a moment longer. "At least let me bind your burns, and then I will leave you in peace. I can send Humbert... I mean, Baron up to see you later, if you so wish."

Haru sank back into the pillows of the bed, but didn't make eye contact with the woman. "Fine. You can finish with my burns, but I don't want to talk to... Humbert." She turned her head to the side and obscured her expression completely. "Not today."

ooOoo

"How is she?" Baron nearly cannonballed into his mother upon the woman's appearance in the kitchen. During Elora's tending to Haru's wounds, Baron had been subjected to a barrage of questions from his father. He looked mildly relieved to see his mother on the basis of escaping his father's interrogation alone. "Is she okay?"

"I don't know. I know so little about fairy health. But it appears, according to her, that the burns are a permanent acquisition. Even if the burns weren't incurable by fairy standards, I'd still be surprised if any ordinary burns like those ever healed completely." Elora took a seat at the kitchen table and found herself being offered a cup of tea. "Thank you."

"Do you think she'll be okay, though?"

"I expect she's a strong individual. She'll pull through."

Edmund looked up from his scribbling into his notebooks and the beginnings of a frown creased into his forehead. "Elora... Is everything alright? You sound... shaken."

His wife sighed and stared down into her tea. "I've just been a fool. An utter, insensitive, callous _fool_."

Edmund and Baron exchanged perplexed glances. Edmund slowly leant forward and patted his wife's hand reassuringly. "Now, whatever you've done, I'm sure it can't be all that bad."

"I tried to tell Haru about her mother."

Elora's quiet admission submerged the kitchen with a momentary flood of silence. Baron was the first one to croak a reply.

"But... I haven't told her about that yet," he whispered. "She doesn't know that..."

"That your family was directly responsible for the events twenty years ago," Elora finished. "I know. And I shouldn't have told her in such a... a blunt way. No, a _self-centred_ way. It was all about me, about _us_."

"I should go and talk to her–"

"No. Humbert, she needs time."

"The last thing she probably needs right now is to be on her own," he replied. He pushed his own tea cup away and rose to his feet. "I owe her that much."

"She said that she doesn't want to talk. Perhaps you should respect that."

Baron paused in the doorway. He was saved answering by the ring of the doorbell.

Edmund froze in mid-sip of his tea, his face abruptly paling. "Humbert, are you sure you weren't seen in the forest?"

"I…"

"If they were guards coming to arrest him, I'd doubt they'd be ringing the doorbell," Elora remarked. "All the same, perhaps it'd be best if I answered it." She rose to her feet and swept past Baron, brushing at her red-rimmed eyes to hide the worst of the distress. "Nobody panic."

"I'm not panicking," both men chorused.

Elora only laughed and unlocked the door just as a second round of ringing began again. "Hello, what – oh. Hello, boys."

Baron leant around the kitchen doorway to see Toto and Muta crowding the porch, with Muta's girth taking up the majority of the space.

"Hello, Lady von Gikkingen," Toto greeted, accompanying his words with a hasty bow. "We were just hoping to talk to your son–"

At this point, Muta spotted Baron. "Oi! There he is! Hey, you've got some explaining to do!"

Baron swung back into the kitchen just in time to have the last image of Muta pushing his way through the front door.

"Excuse me? What are you doing?"

Muta evidently ignored Elora's dangerous tone and fumbled his way into the house, for Baron could hear his heavy footsteps thundering down the corridor. There was a flurry of apologies from Toto, and then he went running after his friend.

Hearing the momentum at which the other two men were coming – Muta especially – Baron decided to put some distance between them. He went running out of the other door, along another hallway and out into the garden.

Baron Edmund von Gikkingen watched as his son fled, quickly pursued by his two friends. He raised his eyebrows and continued to sip his tea. "Afternoon, boys."

"Hey, mister."

"Good day, sir!"

Elora came into the kitchen a moment after Muta and Toto had disappeared out into the garden, a hand on her hip in overt disapproval. "And they didn't even wipe their feet on the doormat first."

Outside, Baron had clambered up an old apple tree to stay out of the immediate reach of his friends. "Could someone explain what's you're doing?" he demanded.

"That's our line," Toto said.

"Yeah! We wanna know what's going on!"

"Going on?" Baron echoed innocently. His façade probably would have been more convincing if he hadn't been halfway up a tree with the blatant guilt of someone who knew he was going to be in trouble later. "I don't know what you mean."

Toto was having none of Baron's faux-naïveté. "Your constant trips into the forest?" he tightly reminded him. "Your weird questions? Your sudden forgetfulness with everything else going around you? And now this?"

Baron smiled sheepishly. "'This'?"

"Running off into the forest again," Muta grunted. "Did ya know that the princess was so worried about you that she asked us to distract the guards for her? So I think it's about time we got clued in."

"You really don't want to be," Baron said.

"Aha! So there _is_ something going on!"

Toto gave his large friend a withering look. "We had already worked that out, dumbo." He looked back up at Baron, who was still occupying the higher branches of the apple tree. "Humbert, don't make us come up there." He paused, and couldn't resist making a jab at Muta, even under these circumstances. "Or me, anyway. Don't want to break the tree, after all."

"Hey!"

Baron took a careful seat on a branch. "You don't want to be involved in this. Trust me."

"Trust ya? Why would we trust ya? You've been lying to us!"

"To keep people safe," Baron stressed. "Do you think I've enjoyed keeping secrets?"

"I dunno. Do ya?"

Toto quickly took over before Muta could dissolve the conversation into mere bickering. "Humbert, can you blame us if we're worried for you? We know that whatever this thing is, it's something to do with the fairies. I mean, we could ignore that for a while, but now with the _gryphon_ in the forest…"

"Ya gonna get yourself killed," Muta tactlessly finished.

"I was talking, fatso."

"Not fast enough."

"Look, guys, this is really… thoughtful of you," Baron settled on. 'Kind' would be overlooking the fact that they had just chased him up a tree. "But I've got everything under control. Sort of. What I mean is, you really don't have to do this."

"I think we do," Muta scoffed.

"Humbert, can you, with all honesty, tell us that there's nothing to worry about?"

Baron started to speak, but then remembered the injured gryphon he had camped up in his home. The assurance died in his throat.

Muta gave a disbelieving grunt. "Okay, that's it." He started to walk away, bringing curious looks from both Toto and Baron. After several metres had been put between them, Muta turned around and charged towards Baron.

From inside the house, there was Elora's cry of, "Not my apple tree!" but it came too late to do anything about Muta's momentum. He cannonballed into the trunk, unseating Baron from his perch and sending him spiralling out of the tree.

When Baron opened his eyes, he was greeted with the silhouettes of his two friends towering over him.

"That," he said, "was unnecessary."

Muta chuckled. "Now, are ya gonna talk or not?"

"I have nothing to say."

Baron gave a rather embarrassing squeak as Muta hoisted him off the ground by the scruff of his collar. His toes scrabbled for the ground as he was brought into Muta's deadpan stare.

"Do ya have nothing to say now?"

"Come on, guys. Let me go."

"Hm, what do you think, birdbrain?"

"I say not until we get some answers."

"I can't!" Baron gasped.

"Can't what?"

"Can't tell you."

His friends exchanged glances. Toto dropped his head to one side. "Why not?"

"Because I'm protecting somebody," Baron whispered.

"Who?"

"That's what I can't tell you."

Abruptly, Baron was released. He hit the ground, his legs giving way and dropping him onto his behind instead. He was naïve enough to think that his answers had finally satisfied his friends' curiosity, but then he saw that Muta was staring up at a window of his house.

"Hey… who's that?"

Baron turned just in time to see the curtains of the guest room being hastily pulled shut. The damage had been done though. "Muta…"

"Did ya see that, birdbrain? Looks like he's got a guest."

Baron scrambled to his feet too late to stop his friends running back inside. Racing back inside, he took the stairs two at a time to see Muta pushing at the door to Haru's room. It swung inward just as Baron cleared the last steps, revealing for all to see the gryphon sat within.

Before his friends could take a single step inside, Baron slotted himself in the doorway.

There was no way Muta or Toto could fail to see the beautiful feathered wings rising from Haru's back, nor mistake the reason for them.

"Please, don't panic," he begged. "Don't… Don't do anything rash…"

"Rash? You've got a flipping fairy in yer house!"

"I… know."

"Do you realise what you've done?" Toto demanded. "Do you know how much trouble you're going to be in?"

"I know," Baron repeated. "Which is why you have to remain calm…"

"A fairy! Not just that, a gryphon!" Muta was still exclaiming. Several moments later, he came to the realisation that Toto had probably come to a good thirty seconds ago. "Wait, is that the same one the guards were talking about? Did ya just spring loose a gryphon from being captured?"

"No, there's obviously two gryphons running around," Toto snapped sarcastically. "Of course it's the same one, idiot! Humbert, what were you _thinking_?"

"I was thinking that I couldn't let her die," Baron growled. He motioned behind him to where Haru stood, shakily propping herself against the bed. "She's not a monster, Toto. She's… She's like any of us – how could I let them do what they did to the last gryphon?"

Toto glanced past Baron to the fairy behind him, and then back to Baron. "You're going to get yourself killed," he murmured.

"Don't you think I know the risks?"

"And yet ya still did this?"

"Things… escalated."

"I can see that," Toto deadpanned.

Baron heard the rustle of Haru's wings, and glanced back to see the gryphon edging further away from them. Baron abandoned blocking the doorway to rush over to her side. "Haru–"

She knocked his hand away. "Don't – Don't come near me." She fell a few steps further back, her bare arms receding about her even as her wings began to rise up about her. They bristled, like the hackles on a dog rising. "What's… What's going on? Who are these people?"

"These are my friends – don't worry, I won't let them hurt you–"

"I should go…" She stumbled away, her limbs still weak from the iron burns. Her eyes were wide and fearful, her movements shaken as she fumbled for the wall behind her. Her gaze shifted from Toto and Muta to Baron, and the fear didn't recede. "This was a bad idea. I never should have… I'm sorry…"

"Haru." Without thinking, Baron caught Haru's hands. She started to jolt away, and then he remembered her plea for him to stay away. He released her, stepping back with hands up to show he didn't plan to repeat his mistake. "You can't go back to the forest. It's too dangerous."

"And I'll be safer here?" Haru snapped. "With you and your family?" She shook her head, and tears came loose in the action. "Your mother told me what they did. What they did to her. To my _mother_."

"Humbert…" Toto's voice came warningly, uneased by the simmering anger in Haru's words. "I think… you should step away…"

"I'm sorry, Haru–"

"Sorry? You think that a simple sorry can undo it? Will it bring my mother back?" A sob caught in her throat, and her wings began to rise further out about her, throwing the room into long shadows. They dwarfed the humans. "Do you have any idea what growing up was like? The other fairies took me in, but they never really knew what to do with me. With the last gryphon. And a half-fairy, at that! I should have grown up under the wings of my mother, but your parents took that away from me! I was left alone while they returned to their comfy life and raised a child in the kind of family that I should have had!" The tears were rolling freely down her cheeks now, and the words were struggling past the sobs thickening her throat. "I'm sorry. But I should never have trusted a human."

"Haru!"

Baron grabbed her wrist even as she turned away.

"DON'T TOUCH ME!" Haru snatched her hand away. She twisted away from him, her wings spreading out and slamming into Baron.

He was thrown back, and the world blacked out.


	10. Before The Storm

When he came to, only moments later, he was sprawled on the floor. A sticky substance was trickling down his face and, as he brushed a hand across his forehead, he felt the cut open above his eyebrow. His fingers came away red.

The realisation came slowly, dawning gradually as he stared down at his crimson fingertips.

Haru… Wings… His friends…

Shouting awoke him from his daze. He raised his head to see the source.

Toto and Muta had put themselves between him and Haru, keeping the fairy firmly away from him. They were shouting, but so was Haru. She was keeping her wings tucked behind her, but her arms were scrabbling to get to him. He saw his name forming on her lips, cried out with fresh fear.

"I'm okay." Baron pushed himself to his feet, swaying and then righting himself as he grabbed Muta's shoulder. The world swam before his eyes in hazy disorientation, and then settled back into its rightful place. "I'm fine," he said.

"Did ya see what she did to you?" Muta snapped.

"No, but I _felt_ it," Baron said. Subconsciously, a hand rose to the open wound, stemming the flow of blood. "It's just a cut, Muta. I'm okay. Please, let her go."

"No offence, but you have just been hit in the head," Toto said. "You'll have to excuse us if we don't assume you're thinking straight right about now." He glanced back to the fairy. "Humbert, she _is_ a gryphon. She's dangerous."

"If she frightens you so, then perhaps you should leave," Baron replied, not unkindly. He dropped a hand to Toto's arm, gently prompting him to move aside. "For the risk is one I'm willing to take."

"I know you like to pretend you know what you're doing, but I really think you're out of your depth here," Toto murmured, but he stepped away.

Muta stared, incredulously, at Toto, and then threw his hands up in the air in defeat. "Fine. You wanna be stupid, be my guest."

Baron offered his non-bloodstained hand to the fairy. "Haru…"

Now that Toto and Muta weren't holding her back, a little of her fire appeared to have diminished. She started to take his hand, but then brought her arms back towards herself. "Baron… I'm sorry. Please, believe me… I never meant to hurt you. I'm so sorry…"

"It's my fault. I shouldn't have grabbed you like that. I should have listened."

"You're bleeding…"

"What, this?" Baron rubbed his palm against the wound sheepishly. "I've had worse. You should see the scars I have from the number of times I fell out of trees in my youth," he chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. "Broke my arm once, and twisted my ankle at least three times…" He trailed off as Haru gently took his hand and moved it away from the cut. Her eyes crinkled in shame at the blood slowly drying across his forehead.

"This is my fault."

Muta scoffed. "Yeah, we see that."

Haru's gaze jumped to the large man, recalling his presence, and then to his dark-haired counterpart. A tired kind of dread filtered back into her eyes; the kind of dread borne from a lifetime of fear of humanity. "I'm sorry," she echoed, repeating those words once more like a broken record. "But I can't stay here. I've already caused enough chaos, Baron. I'll just bring more trouble if I don't go–"

"And where _will_ you go?" Baron demanded. "To the forest? The King knows you exist now, and he won't stop until he finds you."

"The forest _is_ crawling with guards," Toto admitted.

"But he won't think to look inside his own walls," Baron continued. "Please, just think about it–"

"I have thought about it, but the forest is my home," Haru said. "I can't leave it to be torn apart by humans. I _can't_ just run away from it. Would you abandon your home to save your own skin?" She motioned to Toto and Muta. "Would you abandon your friends, your family, your loved ones, if all the chaos was your fault?"

"This isn't your fault, Haru."

"No, but I am the reason the forest is in danger now. I have to go back." She stepped to the side, veering towards the window when suddenly her legs gave way. Baron closed the distance between them, forgetting to stay away in his haste to catch her before she fell. His hands grabbed her arms, and now her gaze dropped to the burns patterned across her skin.

"Haru, please… You're injured…"

Muta appeared behind him, peering around Baron's shoulder to satisfy his morbid curiosity. There was a hissed wince from the man. "Geez, kid; what did ya do to yourself?"

Haru drew her wings carefully about her, hiding away the worst of the scars.

"She didn't do anything, Muta," Baron said. "It was humans." He didn't want to elaborate, didn't want to shed light on the iron weaknesses of the fairies, and so he left it there. For good measure, he added, "Perhaps you can see why she's nervous around people."

"Okay, okay. Point made." Muta huffed and he dropped a hand into his pocket, pulling out an apple. "Here, kid. Ya look peaky."

Haru glanced to Baron, perplexed by the sudden change in attitude.

Baron smiled wanly. "Oh, don't worry about Muta. He likes to complain a lot, but actually he has a heart of gold. He won't mean you any harm."

"Unless ya pull a stunt like that again, kid."

"Muta, please."

"I'm not a kid," Haru retorted. Despite her blatant fear at being in such proximity with strange humans, she still managed a scowl at the large man.

Muta chuckled. "Fine, Chicky."

Haru scowled again, but evidently decided this was the best she was going to get out of him. She tentatively took the offered apple, and her gaze moved to the other stranger. "And what about him?"

Toto held up his hands in defeat. "It looks like I've been outvoted on this one. Fine, Humbert; I'll keep your secret, but we're going to have to talk about this."

Baron smiled weakly. "You'll have to get in line then." When Toto's expression didn't relent, Baron's smile faded into a tired seriousness. "Just for the record, Toto; I am very pleased to have your help. I really do appreciate this."

"Oh, well; I may be committing treason, but at least I'm being appreciated for it," Toto retorted dryly. "I'm sure that'll comfort me when I'm looking at a life in the cells."

"Look, I'm sorry you've been caught up in this mess – in all fairness, I did warn you not to investigate–"

"Perhaps we wouldn't have been investigating if ya hadn't been acting so darn suspicious," Muta said. "Subtlety really ain't your strong point, Humbert."

"Okay, a good point, but–"

"But what, Humbert?" Toto demanded. "Were we supposed to ignore your strange behaviour? Because goodness knows the royal guards weren't. Sooner or later, you were going to end up in trouble. Real trouble." He glanced over at Haru. "Although perhaps it's a little bit too late for such warnings."

"I have everything under control. All I need to do is keep Haru hidden until everything dies back down again, and then she can return to the forest–"

"And then this will all be over?" Toto asked critically. "You'll stop sneaking off into the forest for secret meetings with the fairies? Or is that going to be an ongoing thing?"

Baron hesitated. "I don't know." He looked over at Haru. "I'd like to carry on meeting up, even after everything else goes back to normal."

An instinctive smile twitched at her lips, betraying her true feelings on the subject, but she quickly stifled the smile. "I don't know. He's right," she said, nodding towards Toto. "This is dangerous for you. Perhaps too dangerous."

"Even she sees sense!" cried Toto. "Why can't you, Humbert?"

"Because it's my decision."

"No. It isn't. Look at how many people you've dragged into your 'decision' – your parents, Louise, me, the fatso, even the gryphon you claim to be protecting–"

"I had no idea it was going to escalate to this level."

"And if you had?"

"What?"

"And if you had," Toto repeated. "If you had known what was going to happen. What would you have done?"

Baron started to give the response he knew Toto wanted, but the words stuck in his throat. "If I had known what was going to happen right from the start?" he echoed. "Maybe not. But, standing here and now, I would not take back any of my decisions to help her."

Toto's eyes narrowed as he weighed the truth of his friend's words. Then he sighed. "I don't believe this. I really mean it: This is almost impossible to believe. That you, of all people, would be defending a decision to save a fairy – and a gryphon at that."

"Yeah, I mean, you've always been a bit of a pushover with people, but fairies were the one thing you never cared much about."

"A pushover?" Baron echoed. He looked to Toto, confusion laced in his eyes. "Do you share this opinion, Toto?"

His friend suddenly lost his confident stance, his face crumpling as if caught passing gossip. "Well, you've always been very eager to please those around you," Toto murmured. "When was the last time you said no, Humbert?"

"I…" How many times had he agreed to help at the Moon bakery? How many times had he run errands for Toto? And, when it had come to it, he hadn't even been able to ignore the pitiful gaze of the gryphon. His answer caught in his throat, and a strange seed of anger began to take root. "So that's what you call my kindness? A weakness?"

"No…" Toto made a face, as if this were a conversation he had hoped would never happen. "Look, we're not just talking about volunteering to cover a shift or two at the bakery. It's just… we've never really seen you stand up for yourself. We all know you'd prefer to turn the other cheek rather than ever hit back…" He shrugged and looked away, only momentarily glancing Haru's way. "I suppose it makes sense that the first time we saw you fight back, it'd be for someone else's sake."

"Yeah, let's just hope this sudden backbone doesn't get ya killed."

"I'll bear that in mind," Baron deadpanned.

"Anyway… we'll be going," Toto said. He grabbed the collar of Muta and hauled his friend out after him.

Muta pushed himself free, giving Toto a dirty look. "I can walk."

"What? Even with those stumpy legs?"

"Say that again when we're outside, ya stick insect."

The door swung shut after them, whereupon there was a heavy silence from the corridor beyond. Even so, after several stinted seconds Baron heard Toto hiss, "Idiot," to his companion. "Why did you have to call him a pushover?"

"You didn't have to agree, birdbrain!"

The voices faded as they descended the stairs, leaving Baron well and truly alone with Haru. He stared at the closed door, trying to gather his thoughts. The only problem was that there were so many different directions for his mind to run in.

There was a squeak of the mattress as Haru slowly took a perch at the end of the guest bed. The sound broke Baron from his thoughts, and he turned to face the gryphon.

"They're wrong," she said. Her eyes didn't meet his, but instead were cast down at the apple clutched in her hands. She rolled the fruit between her palms, a nervous tick. "It's not a weakness."

Baron sat down beside her; the mattress sagged at his weight and brought Haru's shoulders resting against his own. "What isn't?"

"Kindness." A frown buried itself into her brow, and her hands stilled even as her grip around the apple tightened. "It's not a weakness. It's a strength. A weak person values their own desires over other people's needs, but there is strength in caring for others."

"Actually, I have a bad feeling they may have been right in their assessment." He felt, rather than saw, her gaze turn to him as it rolled over with building disapproval, and thusly added, "About me, I mean. I'm not a fighter, I never have been. To be honest, what with everything that's going on… I'm scared witless." He hesitated, pointedly avoiding her gaze. "I guess… that's why I didn't tell you about my family. I'm sorry." He stole a quick breath, and rolled on before his guilt could stop him, "And there's something else you should know. About the night you were shot down."

"It was you, wasn't it?"

He finally looked to her, abruptly turning his gaze. "How long have you known?"

"Well, I wondered. You humans wander into the forest so rarely, so the chances that you would find me were, well… And now you've just dropped that line about there being something I should know, so… I guessed," Haru said. Her gaze focused on the apple Muta had given her, rolling it about between her hands again. "I'm sorry for freaking out earlier. It's just… all my life, I've blamed your king for my mother's death, and I guess… I guess I came to the conclusion that all humans were like that. But then, you turned up, and I wanted to be believe that… you were different. But you're just like all the others."

Baron's eyes found themselves focused on the apple Haru spun between her palms. "Like which others?" he asked. "Like Muta and Toto? Like Louise? Like my parents?"

Haru didn't reply.

"Because all those people have just put their lives on the line to keep you safe. I'm not excusing what has been done, because what my parents and I did to you and your family was wrong. And, yes, some of what we're doing is to selfishly alleviate our guilt, but…" He sighed. "I don't know how to finish that sentence. I suppose all I can say is… I'm sorry. And I will do everything I can to help you."

"Well then, tell me one thing. Did you help me because of your guilt?"

"What? No!"

"Because that would make a lot of sense. You know, why you decided to let me live, instead of doing what you've been taught to."

"No! Well, maybe it was at one point, but that's not why I'm here now!" Baron moved as if to take Haru's hands, but remembered at the last moment her aversion to contact. "Haru, I want to help you because I care about you. That's why. You're important to me."

"Really?"

Baron nodded. "I don't want to see you get hurt."

She smiled wanly, her eyes flickering down to the burns running along her arms. "Too late for that, I think." She shrugged, and a little of her playful spark rekindled. "But I appreciate the sentiment."

Baron didn't smile. "That's not funny, Haru. Those burns are serious."

"And there's nothing I can do about them, not even magic. Trust me; I'm a fairy – I know about magic." She brushed a finger along the marred skin. "There are worse things than being scarred."

Baron watched the movement, his guilt intensifying as he saw the burns in the light of day. Even if he hadn't been the one to cage her, his actions had still led to this. She was hurt because of him.

"Can we start again?"

The question slipped out before he could check it; Haru paused and raised her gaze to his, her head tilted curiously to one side. "Start what again?"

"Us. This." He motioned weakly to the two of them. "Can we start afresh and, this time, no lies and no secrets. I promise."

She smiled again, and this time there was a sincere gentleness in her eyes. "I like the sound of that."

"Thank you." Baron rose to his feet, and there was an unspoken sorrow that also rose as he broke contact away from the gryphon. He pushed the emotion and all its implications away. "I need to fetch something; I'll be back in a moment."

He returned several minutes later with a tattered black notebook in hand.

"Here. I believe you should have this."

He held out the little book to the gryphon. Haru glanced to it, then to him, and silently took the notebook with an air of solemn confusion. As she cautiously flicked through it, Baron began to explain.

"It has everything I know about fairies in it," he said. "Your weaknesses to iron and salt, your dependency on the trees… Everything that would make it too easy for humans to destroy your kind." He swallowed nervously. "It feels only right that you should keep it."

Haru paused in her perusal of the notebook, her fingers coming between two pages that held not his notes, but his sketches.

Sketches of her.

They were some of the last sketches he had made, made all the more plain for the fact that they captured Haru in her human form, not her feline one. Her fingers trailed over the laughing face that he had sketched from memory, drifting across the page until her fingers came to rest at a full-body drawing. It caught Haru in the moment where she had swayed above the world, tethered to the ground only by the topmost branches of a towering tree; in that moment where she had been a wild daughter of the forest.

"You would really give this to me?" she whispered. "But you've put so much work into this book."

"I don't feel comfortable keeping it. Not when it could do so much damage if it falls into the wrong hands. So it's yours now. Destroy it, keep it, it's your choice."

Haru's hand trailed once more over the page before she gently closed it and its secrets away. "Baron… Thank you."

"You can thank me when we're out of this mess," he mumbled.

She ignored his comment and drew her wings about her. She plucked a feather loose.

Baron yelped. "Hey! What are you doing?"

"It's just a feather." Haru smoothed it between her finger and thumb, and then offered it to him. "I can't give you anything like this notebook, but I can give you this."

Baron glanced to the gift dubiously. "A feather?"

"Will you stop looking like it's about to bite you and just take it already? And, for the record, it's not just a feather. I told you before – fairy gifts have power."

"What kind of power?" he asked. "Will I be able to fly? Turn invisible? Become invincible?"

Haru raised an eyebrow. "I said they have power, not that they grant superpowers." She shook her head in quiet disbelief. "Humans," she muttered. "Listen, this feather will lead you to me. If you ever need me, all you need to do is say my name and it will guide you."

Baron's humour faded a little. "Why does this feel ominous?"

"It's not ominous," Haru insisted.

"Yes, it is – this feels like you're going away for good!"

"I'm not." She hesitated, however, before continuing. "Look, I'm not stupid. I realise how much danger you and your family are putting yourselves in by doing this. I just… wanted to show my appreciation. And…" Again, she hesitated. "Well… one day, you may need my help, and I want to make sure that you'll be able to get it. Now do you understand?"

Baron glanced to the feather in his hand, filled with magic and promises. Suddenly, it seemed a far greater gift than his notebook would ever be. Why she kept trusting him, he didn't understand. "Please be careful, Haru," he murmured. "Or else your kind heart will be the death of you."

When there came no reply, he looked over to the fairy.

She was curled up on the bedcovers with her wings tucked about her, gently wrapped in the thrall of sleep.

Baron carefully rose from the bed and draped a blanket over the gryphon. He paused by her head, noting the pale pallor of her skin; a paleness that had settled in over the course of their conversation, but which he had only perceived now. He tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, quietly unsettled by the coolness of her cheeks. The iron burns and the distance from the forest were already taking their toll.

As he turned and reached the door, there was rustling behind him. There was a sigh, and a half-asleep mumble of, "My kind heart isn't the only one at risk."

By the time he had looked back, the fairy had already fallen back into slumber.

ooOoo

"How is she doing?"

Baron took the offered cup of tea from his mother and collapsed into a chair. "Okay, I think. For what she's been through… she's doing incredibly well." As he sipped at the tea, he became increasingly aware of his father's barely-suppressed curiosity. "Do you have any more questions, Father?"

"He doesn't."

"Yes."

Baron's parents eyed each other.

"We discussed this," Elora hissed.

"But think about this! This is could be the scientific breakthrough of the century! A chance to learn about the fairies' way of life, of their interactions, their very nature. This is a unique opportunity!"

Elora caught Baron's eye. "I don't know which is worse – that you're related to him, or that I chose him. Neither reflects well on us."

Baron smiled weakly. "Actually, I'd really not answer any more queries."

"See, Edmund? You've questioned the boy out!"

"It's not that," Baron quickly added. "It's just… I don't feel comfortable telling too much about the fairies, not even to you." He looked away. "To be honest, I probably know too much as it is."

Edmund lowered the notebook he had clutched in his hands. "Well then, I suppose I can't fault that." He smiled gently, but was clearly disappointed. "You've grown so much in the last week, Humbert."

"Thank you." Baron's smile faded as he thought back to their injured guest. "Mother, are there any more potions or salves you could make to help Haru? She's still too weak after the iron burns, and I think she's getting weaker as she stays away from the forest."

"I have a few concoctions I could try," Elora said, "but, by the sound of things, I really need one of those fairy flowers to make any real progress. But," she added, as she saw Baron's face fall, "I will do everything I can."

"Oh! Machida might have fetched a flower by now!" Baron rose back to his feet. "If I go back to the forest, then I can–"

"No!"

He halted at his parents' chorus.

"Humbert, the most dangerous thing you could do right now is return back there," Edmund said. "You've been in that forest more than anyone; if anyone sees you, then you'll become even more suspicious. No; I shall go in your stead."

Elora pinched her nose. "Why don't either of you ever think?" she muttered. "Humbert, you're not going because, like your father said, you're about as suspicious as a fox in a hen house at this point. And Edmund, you're not going because I know all you're thinking about is the chance to meet another fairy. Anyway, the forest will be crawling with guards at this point. So no one is going back to the forest tonight; tomorrow we shall discuss it, and see if there's a solution that doesn't involve raising the chances of convicting our family of treason."

"Yes, Elora."

"Yes, Mother."

"Good." She shook her head tiredly. "It's getting late and I believe we're all going to need a decent night's sleep for tomorrow. I think it's time we turned in. You too, Edmund." Elora eyed her husband. "No staying up into the wee small hours this time."

"But I haven't even finished compiling my notes!"

" _Now_ , Edmund."

"Yes, dear."

She watched him slouch out, one raised eyebrow taking permanent residence on her forehead. "I swear, sometimes it's like I'm raising two sons…" She glanced over and saw that her actual son was still there. "Humbert?"

Tentatively, Baron pulled his mother into a hug.

For a moment, Elora didn't react, but then she gently returned the embrace, even if her son did take after his father in the height department. "What's brought this on?"

"It's a thank you. For supporting me through this, even though I'm putting everyone's lives in danger."

"What was I meant to do?" she softly asked. "I could hardly turn Haru away." She loosened her hold and stepped back to look up at her son. "Are you scared, Humbert?"

"No."

Elora tilted her head. The answer had come too quickly for it to be true. "It's okay to be afraid, my dear; fear just means you have something precious you want to protect. It's what we do with that fear that defines us." Her gaze moved past him, shifting in the direction where Haru lay sleeping in the guest room. "And look what you've done so far."

"But it was never this close to home," Baron whispered. "Louise, Muta, Toto, Father, you… You're all at risk now, and it's my doing. How can I possibly protect everyone?"

"You let others help." Elora shook her head with a tired, but affectionate air. "Do you really think that any of us will let you face this alone? Whatever happens tomorrow – and I have the feeling that the situation is going to snowball – we will face it together. Just trust me."

Baron nodded. "Okay."

Heavy knocking at the front door shattered the evening peace. Elora stepped away from her son and motioned for him to stay back. He lingered by the kitchen door, in sight but in the background, while his mother moved to greet their guests.

Upon opening the door, both von Gikkingens immediately focused on the blue uniforms of the royal guard. Two men filled the doorway, and Baron thought he recognised at least one from the last time the royal guard had paid their house a visit.

"Ah. What an unexpected surprise," Elora said. She moved so she was directly between them and Baron. "So, do you bring good news? Has a gryphon really been caught in the forest?"

"Elora? What's going on?" Edmund appeared at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a dressing gown and old slippers. "Do we have visitors?" He froze, halfway down the last step. "Gentlemen…" He eventually remembered to move, and slowly joined his wife. "What can we do for you?"

The taller of the two guards bowed, and the nervousness in the action unsettled Baron. It wasn't the manner of someone bringing good news.

"Baron von Gikkingen, Lady von Gikkingen… We apologise for this intrusion, but we have not come for you." The guard straightened, and the apology in his eyes as he focused on Baron made clear their real objective. "We have orders to bring your son, Humbert von Gikkingen, to the King, for questioning concerning the gryphon."


	11. Unravelling

The guard's last words hung in the air, settling like a heavy mist across the room. A moment of stillness passed, long enough for the guard to, perhaps, think that this would be simple.

And then Elora stepped up to the man.

Lady Elora von Gikkingen was not tall by any stretch of the imagination. It didn't help that her husband and son stood head and shoulders above her, giving her the illusion of yet further diminished height, but her short stature had rarely stopped her. She looked up at the man whose nose was level with her eyes, and dangerously narrowed her gaze.

"And if we refuse?"

The guard glanced over at the whole family – the mother protecting her child, the father dressed only his dressing gown and slippers, and the son himself, lingering at the back with overt horror at his mother – and tried to gauge the best approach to the von Gikkingens.

He opted for diplomacy.

"I'm under orders, Lady von Gikkingen. Your son is believed to be involved with the fairies, and possibly even the gryphon itself; the King wishes to speak to him on the matter of the town's safety."

"If that's the case, then Edmund and I will attend."

"I'm afraid we were strictly told to bring only your son," the guard said, regret colouring his face with every passing second. "You and your husband are to stay here."

"If you think that we're just going to let you take away our son–"

"Please, we're not looking for a fight here–"

"Well then, it's too late for that–!"

"Elora, please!"

"Mother, it's fine."

Baron stepped forward, gently laying a hand on Elora's shoulder. At his words, she froze, half in the process of launching herself at the guard, while Edmund was holding back his wife to the best of his ability. The guard had taken several precautionary steps back.

But, at Baron's words, the fight went out of his mother.

"Humbert…"

"It's fine," he repeated. And he smiled, attempting to convey conviction in words he did not believe. "I'll be back before you know it." He turned to the guard, the smile flickering now. "So, to the palace?"

The guard nodded and held out a couple of somethings circular and metal. Having never seen them in real life or so close, it took Baron's brain several seconds to recognise the handcuffs, and then several more seconds to come to terms with the implication.

"Really?" he asked weakly. "Are they really necessary?"

The guard looked like he agreed, probably thinking the handcuffs would be more useful restraining Lady von Gikkingen than the lanky youth before him. "I'm sorry; King's orders."

"Now, wait just a moment!" Elora pulled away from her husband's grip, surging forward to stand before the guard, her fire rekindled with a dangerous glow. "Humbert has done nothing to deserve this treatment! He is not a criminal; you have no right to treat him this way!"

"Please, Lady von Gikkingen…"

"Take one step towards my son with those handcuffs and I'll be using your guts for our next serving of umble pie," Elora hissed. "You are _not_ arresting him!"

"Mother!" Baron pushed himself between Elora and the guard; a feat made none the easier for his mother's stout refusal to back down. "Keep this up, and they'll arrest you too." His eyes flickered to the house behind Elora, and notably to the upper floor where the guest room lay. "I need you to stay here. For everyone's sake."

Elora pursed her lips, but understood the message. "Fine," she conceded. She narrowed her eyes at the guards. "He'd better come back in one unharmed piece; do I make myself clear?"

"Very." The taller guard glanced nervously to the handcuffs still in his hold. His gaze turned, still apologetically, back to Baron. "I'm sorry, but the King's orders were to bring you to the palace, restrained."

Baron nodded. "I understand."

Elora's eyes blazed, but this time she made no comment, only a slight hiss as the handcuffs were applied.

The handcuffs fell a little loose around Baron's wrists, which didn't help to expel the air that this was all rather unnecessary. He gave them an experimental shake, which made everyone about him wince. Despite being larger than perhaps necessary, it was clear that he wasn't going to be able to slide his hands out without the use of the key.

He attempted a smile for his parents. "This isn't so bad. At least the guards are being civil about this."

Elora bit her lip and managed a tight-lipped smile. Baron could see the effort it was taking her to keep her temper under control.

Edmund brought an arm around his wife's shoulder, and she leant gratefully into the support.

"Be careful," Edmund said. "Don't do anything rash."

Baron grinned ruefully. "You know me, Father; when have I ever?"

The guard patted him on the shoulder. "Time to go."

Elora lingered at the door, waiting on the porch until her son and the guards were far out of sight. "I have never felt so useless in my life," she whispered. "How can I just let them take him away like this?"

"Humbert's doing this to protect us," Edmund said.

"Humbug. We should be the ones doing the protecting."

"Even so, threatening to turn the guards into offal is perhaps not the best way to go about it."

Elora sniffed. "Just because you come from a noble lineage, doesn't mean the rest of us do." She turned away and slammed the door behind them. The house rattled in protest.

"What happened?" Haru appeared at the top of the stairs, her face still pale and her wings bedraggled. "Where's Baron?" She took in the broken image of the two parents, standing, childless, by the door. "What's happened to Baron?"

"Everything's going to be okay," Edmund assured. "He's simply been taken in for questioning."

"It's because of me, isn't it?" Haru asked. "It's because they know he helped me."

"They know nothing of the sort," Elora snapped. Her voice was tight with the need to believe her own words. "All they have is some shoddy circumstantial evidence that Humbert has visited the forest recently. They have no proof that he was ever directly involved with you. They'll have to let him go." She paused and, in a small voice, added, "Assuming he says nothing stupid."

"And how likely is that?"

Elora raised an eyebrow. "Well, the von Gikkingen men are hardly famed for their subtlety."

Haru looked to Edmund.

He shrugged. "I would protest, but, honestly, she's got a point."

"Is he going to be okay?" Haru asked. Quietly, like she was afraid to hear the answer.

The remaining von Gikkingens exchanged a glance. "We… think so," Edmund said.

For once, Elora was strangely silent.

"And that's it?" Haru demanded. "You _think_ he's going to be fine, so you let him go?"

"Humbert knew that he raised the risk of your discovery if he resisted arrest," Edmund said. "And, as Elora stated, they have no way of knowing for sure that he was associated with you. As long as he keeps a cool head and doesn't do anything rash, he should be fine."

"I should do something," the gryphon said. "I can't just stay here–"

Edmund moved between Haru and the door, but didn't attempt to physically halt her. "Do what?" he demanded. His gaze shifted between Haru and Elora. "Listen; Humbert didn't agree to leave with the guards so that we could fall apart. He needs us to stay calm as if nothing is wrong. I'm sorry, Haru, but you can't leave this house; not unless you want someone to spot you and trace your movements back to here. As of now, all they have is conjecture, and I'd like to keep it that way."

"You can't stop me from leaving," Haru whispered.

"I know. Which is why I'm asking you… for Humbert's sake… please stay."

Haru shook her head, but it wasn't in refusal; it was in defeat. "I never meant for any of this to happen, you know. I thought that… that it'd be okay… for Baron and me to be friends. We weren't harming anyone." Her wings dropped about her, the tips of her feathers brushing the floor. "I just wanted a friend."

Elora stepped forward and gently took Haru's hands in her own. "It's not your fault, my dear. Humbert was aware of the risks right from the start, and he chose to accept them. Whatever happens now, it was always his decision as much as it was yours."

Haru nodded reluctantly. "I still… worry…" she sighed, and her legs buckled beneath her.

Elora and Edmund caught her before she could hit the floor.

"She's still too weak," Elora gasped. "She needs to rest."

"What she probably needs is one of those fairy flowers," Edmund said.

"We can't leave the house now – the town's borders will be crawling with guards. How are we going to explain a sudden walk in the forest, especially after Humbert has just been arrested?"

"I don't know, but she's not recovering while she's here. If we don't do something soon, there won't be a gryphon left for the guards _to_ find."

The doorbell rang. Both von Gikkingens froze, suddenly very aware of their raised voices.

"I'll answer it," Elora whispered. She started to shift Haru's weight towards her husband.

"Wait! She's too heavy for me to hold!" Edmund hissed.

"Fine. You can answer the door." Elora wove an arm around Haru's back and began to ease her towards the lounge.

"What if it's the guards again?"

Elora shook her head. "They didn't ring the bell last time; I fail to see why they would now. Just go – before we become any more suspicious." She shook her head again and gently lowered the fairy onto a sofa. Despite her previous statements, she had to admit her husband had a point. Unless they found a way to combat Haru's draining energy reserves, they would soon be protecting a corpse. She dropped the back of her palm against Haru's forehead; cold to the touch.

"Hang in there, my dear," she murmured. "You haven't survived this long to fall now."

Across the house, Edmund opened the front door to their guests.

"… Muta? Toto? What are…? What are you doing here?"

"What's happened?" Muta's heavy footsteps thundered along the corridor. Elora could just about make out the lighter tapping of Toto following behind. "I saw Humbert getting his ass hauled across town by a couple of guards. What's going on?" Muta whistled as he came to the lounge door, his eyes trained on the gryphon. "Hey, Chicky's not looking so good. Is she sick?"

"Homesick, or a potent variation of it, anyway," Elora said. "She needs a certain flower from the forest, but Edmund and I can't…" She trailed off, and a strange light entered her eyes.

Toto leant towards Muta. "Isn't that the same look Humbert gets whenever he has an idea?"

"Yeah. I don't like it."

"Haru needs a particular flower from the forest, or she's only going to become weaker," Elora said, her words tumbling in a rush as she latched onto the thought. "With Humbert under arrest, Edmund and I can't go anywhere near the forest unless we want to implicate him further. But, you two…"

"Hey, lady; we're his friends, you know," Muta said. "It still looks bad for him if we go. And what excuse would we have?"

"We could say we're collecting herbs," Toto said suddenly. He smiled nervously. "You know I've been teaching myself to be a healer; well, sometimes I pick up a few ingredients, like Lady von Gikkingen does. Some of the guards on perimeter duty know me."

"Why did you have to say that?" his friend hissed. "Now we don't have any excuse left!"

"Please," Elora said. "Haru needs this."

Muta eyed the unconscious fairy, not failing to note her sickly pallor and shallow breath. He huffed. "Fine. So what's this fancy flower we need?"

"Humbert said that he agreed to fetch it from another fairy," Edmund said. "Since the flower's powers only work if picked by a fairy and gifted to a human."

"So… we ain't only failing to report the gryphon; we're now gonna actually be working alongside another fairy," Muta grunted. "Great. As if I couldn't sink any further into treason today." He threw his hands up into the air, and turned before either von Gikkingen could comment. "Don't say anything; I'm already going. Birdbrain, ya coming?"

"In a moment." Toto turned to the other two. "The fatso's dramatic exit aside, we're going to need some map co-ordinates before we leave."

ooOoo

Baron kept his gaze down, trying not to make eye contact with any of the guards. He could feel the pitying, curious eyes of those around him; of the sentries who had waved him into the palace so many times in the past, and yet now he was being brought in like a prisoner.

Correction: He _was_ a prisoner.

He paused as a sentry muttered something to the guard to his right.

The muttering didn't make him feel much better. No one ever muttered good news.

This feeling was further fortified as he was directed into the palace and away from the Entrance Hall.

Baron shifted uncomfortably, glancing back to the main body of the palace. "I thought I was going to see the King," he said. "What's going on?"

"There's been a change of plans."

"Changed to what?" He twisted his head about just enough to see the grim expressions of the two guards and his meagre confidence plummeted. He came to a halt as they rounded a corner and came to an ominous iron gate. "Oh." His remaining confidence joined its companions at the bottom of his stomach as he regarded the entrance to the royal dungeons.

"The King has decreed that he shall speak with you tomorrow," the taller guard said. "Until then, you shall spend the night here." He paused, and added, "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Baron said, almost absent-mindedly; his mind was still whirring over the realisation. He continued to stare at the gate, which he had passed by, but never neared. He had certainly never imagined that he would be entering it as a resident, however temporary.

The shorter guard opened the gate, and now Baron could see the dark steps that sank into the ground. He followed after the other man, attempting to steady his balance by running his cuffed hands along the wall. The steps gave way to a predictably dark and dank corridor, barely lit by flickering torches. As they proceeded along, the air settled at an uncomfortably low temperature, and cell doors began to make their appearance.

"This place is just as jolly as I imagined it," Baron muttered. Louder, he added, "So which one is mine?"

"This one."

He was shown to a door as barred and unremarkable as the rest, although now he knew it was his, it looked a little darker and danker than the rest.

"Do the, uh…" and he shook the manacles, "come off?"

There was a silence, and the shorter guard pushed the cell door open.

"I'll take that as a no." Baron rubbed at his wrists where the handcuffs were irritating, and slowly stepped into the cell. His new room for the night. Hopefully for the only night. He took a steady look at his surroundings.

The walls were solid walls rather than bars, which granted him some privacy from the rest of the dungeon's occupants, but it also meant that the only light he could gleam was that through the bars of the door's window. And the corridor didn't have much light to boast of to begin with.

He took a seat against the wall, bringing his knees up and letting his cuffed hands drop across them. The manacles caught the meagre light and glimmered. Tonight was going to be a long night.

ooOoo

"Go to the forest, they said. Fetch a flower, they said." Muta kicked at an unfortunate bush as he stomped through the wood. "Find a fairy, they said. In case they failed to notice this, there's a blooming lot of forest and flowers and fairies."

"I could have done this by myself, you know," Toto muttered. "You didn't have to come."

"Hey, I want to help the kid as much as you." Muta took another kick at a passing bush. "I just didn't think it was gonna be so difficult. And this place gives me the creeps."

"Perhaps if you didn't try to demolish every plant in the whole forest, you wouldn't feel like every fairy from here to the coast is watching us. Would you _stop that?_ " Toto thwacked Muta with the map before the larger man could take out his frustrations on another bush. "No one said this would be easy."

"No one said it would be hard, either. Are ya sure you're reading that map right?"

Toto swept the map away from Muta before it could be stolen off him. "Of course I'm sure, dunderhead, but Lady von Gikkingen said they only have a vague idea of where Humbert agreed to meet this fairy. Or if they agreed on a meeting place at all. Apparently Humbert was rather ambiguous on the subject."

"Oh, what a surprise," Muta deadpanned. "Here, give me the map–"

"With your map-reading skills? I don't think so."

"It doesn't take a genius to read squiggly path lines, moron."

"No, but it does take at least two brain cells, and you're a couple short."

"Take that back–"

Forgoing discretion, Muta leapt towards Toto.

Toto, usually rather skilled in the art of dodging-Muta, tried to side-step the human cannonball, but caught his foot between a couple of roots and found himself also rooted to the spot.

Muta, having not expected his impromptu attack to work, overestimated his momentum and went slamming into Toto.

The two lay stunned for a moment, both regretting their life choices.

"Moron."

"Birdbrain."

Something heavy dropped out of the trees and landed before them. Toto felt the vibrations through the ground, while Muta saw something black and furry drop from above.

"Hey, uh, fatso… please tell me that was you."

"How can I fall when I'm already facepalming the ground, idiot?" Muta tilted his head and saw the feet of the black thing. Mostly, he noted the lethal claws protruding from its padded paws and registered precious little else. He gulped.

"What is it?" Toto squirmed, still pinned to the ground by Muta's weight. "Get off me, lardball! What's there?"

"I think my legs have forgotten how to move."

"I'm not surprised. With your weight, it's amazing they ever moved to begin with."

"Is this really the time for fat jokes?" Muta growled.

The creature approached them, until it was only inches away. It dropped its head to Muta's level, and snarled.

Suddenly, Muta's legs sprang into action. He stumbled to his feet, dragging Toto back with him as a last-minute thought.

Toto caught his balance just in time to see the large, black fairy dominating the path before them. His balance nearly gave way.

The creature spat out the tiny red bud it had carried in its mouth and took a slow step towards the two men.

"Humans. What do you want?"

There was a horrified pause at the guttural, unhuman voice of the fairy. Muta and Toto had both presumed that this fairy would either not speak, or sound as normal as Haru. They were wrong on both regards.

Muta was the first to regain his wits.

"Uh… lovely place you've got here… so, yeah… we'll just be going–"

Toto grabbed Muta's collar before his friend abandoned him. "Are you Machida?"

The fairy narrowed its eyes. "Who wants to know?"

"We're here to collect a flower? For Haru." Toto swallowed nervously and tried not to look at the creature's claws or jaw. "Apparently she needs it to get better."

The fairy snarled, but not at them this time. "More know of her now? Can't that human keep his mouth shut?" He huffed and turned his gaze to the two men. "I'm Machida. Why didn't Baron come instead of sending you?"

"Baron?"

"That's what Chicky calls Humbert." Muta snorted. "It kinda suits him, too."

"Baron couldn't make it," Toto said. "There's been some… complications in the town."

"What sort of complications?" Machida demanded. The air fizzled about him, and suddenly there was a young, dark-haired man standing before them, his eyes angular and cat-like still. "Is Haru–?" His voice was human now, and strangely vulnerable. Suddenly Toto wondered how old the fairy was.

"No one else knows about her," Toto said.

"Apart from you, me, Humbert, his parents, and Louise," Muta added. "But yeah, apart from that, her existence is practically unknown."

Toto resisted the urge to slap his friend, and quickly continued before the fairy could properly react. "Our King doesn't know that she's in the town, but he has arrested Humbert on suspicion of helping her. That's why he couldn't come. Please, we need the flower for Haru. She's getting weaker the longer she goes without it."

"If she's suffering that badly, then she should come back to the forest," Machida snapped. "The topmost flowers will heal her far better than any concoction a human can brew up."

There was a low, rumbling sound that grew into a creaking roar. The sound was so strange, so huge, that for a moment neither human could place it. And then, as the ground shook, they realised it was a tree being felled. A large tree.

"Hey, it doesn't look like the forest is particularly safe right now," Muta said. "Chicky's probably better off with us."

"I can protect her!"

Another rumble, another tree. The air was filled with the alarm calls of birds as they took to the sky.

"I know you're worried for Haru, but the forest isn't safe," Toto said. "The King is tearing the place apart looking for her – if she returns, she'll have no chance in her state. Please, let us help."

A pause. Machida turned away and melted back into his feline form.

"Fine," he grunted. He picked up the discarded flower with his teeth and threw it towards to the humans. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a home to protect."

Machida sprang up into the trees and disappeared between the branches.

His bearings were heading straight towards the thunderous cracking of felled trees, and towards the humans who were surely behind them.

Toto and Muta took several moments to recover from their fairy encounter.

"This is turning into a war, isn't it?" Muta asked quietly.

"Yeah."

There was another silence.

"What happens when we have to choose a side?"

Toto sighed. He picked up the rose-red flower from the forest floor, turning the enclosed bud over in his hands. "I think it's too late for that."

ooOoo

After a small eternity, Baron heard footsteps approaching his cell. He was naïve enough for a moment to believe that it was the King, come to hear his side of the tale, until the door opened and a familiar blonde stepped inside.

The guard accompanying her moved to intercede. "Your Highness, I'm not sure that you should–"

Louise waved the woman aside. "He's not a threat. Trust me."

The guard hesitated, her eyes moving over the shackled man seated at the far end of the cell. She glanced back to Louise and decided that she didn't want to fight over this with the princess. She bowed. "Yes, your Highness."

"Good. You may leave us."

"But–"

"He's an old friend," Louise said. "I think I deserve the chance to speak to him in private."

The guard sighed and stepped out of the cell with a resigned bow. "Indeed, your Highness. I shall remain out in the corridor. If you need any assistance, you only need call."

"Thank you." Louise watched the door close behind her before finally turning her gaze to the somewhat pathetic form before her. "Humbert…"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean for it to get so out of hand."

The princess groaned and knelt down before her friend. She ran a hand through her hair, as if that would soothe away the budding headache. "I know you didn't mean to, but it has. Humbert, I don't think I can do anything to get you out of this. I've already tried."

"Technically, they have no solid proof that I've done anything wrong," Baron said. "At this point, it's all merely speculation."

"At this point, yes," Louise growled. She motioned sharply through the air, probably gesturing in the direction of his home. "But what about when something else goes wrong, Humbert? What you've done won't remain a secret forever."

Baron had little answer to that. Once upon a time – when he had started down the slippery slope of gryphon friendship – he had believed it would. That he would turn his back on the fairy and walk away. He had tried – and he had almost succeeded. That was, until Haru had been captured. Even so, something would eventually have happened. Sooner or later, something would have gone wrong, and he would still be in this predicament.

"My father is furious," Louise continued, moving away from the heavy silence of her friend. "That's why I had to convince him to leave you in here for the night, instead of confronting you immediately."

"What?"

The princess smiled weakly. "It's for your own good. In his current state, my father would probably have you exiled, at the very least. He's terrified, Humbert; at least a dozen guards saw the gryphon in the flesh, and now it's escaped. He thinks it's coming after him, like some sort of grisly revenge for what he did twenty years ago."

Baron thought back to Haru, to the orphaned gryphon left to fend for herself in the forest. He couldn't help thinking that the King had a reason to be afraid of revenge. But, even so, "Haru would never do that," he said. "She's not the revenge type."

"You know that," Louise said, "but my father doesn't. To be honest, I only have your word that this gryphon is as trustworthy as you say."

"And do you believe me?"

Louise sighed and took a seat beside Baron on the dusty ground. "I believe that you believe she's trustworthy. I guess that'll have to do for now."

"I think you would really like her, if you got to know her. She's curious and brave, with a heart far too kind for her own good." He paused, and added, "You two are a lot alike, I think."

Louise was uncharacteristically quiet, her eyes strangely sad. "You care a lot for her, don't you?"

"It was my doing that got her into this mess."

"Maybe, but it's more than just a responsibility now, isn't it?" Louise's gaze flickered to Baron's, and locked onto his. Baron suddenly found he couldn't break away. Her eyes were so familiar – after all, they had known each other all their lives – and yet, now, they reminded him of Haru's. "What you feel for her… it's deeper than that."

Baron wanted to turn away, but Louise's gaze continued to pin him in place. The sadness in her eyes had become mixed with a potent fierceness; a desire to hear the truth, regardless of what pain it might bring. And Baron found he lacked the courage.

"Louise… I'm sorry."

"For what?" she scoffed, and she finally dropped her gaze. "For falling for someone other than me? Don't apologise for something you couldn't help." She started to rise to her feet, but she paused. The sadness returned, seeping into her movements. "Humbert… if none of this had ever happened, if you had never met her…" she murmured, "do you think you… I mean, we…" She reddened and abruptly straightened. "Never mind."

Baron reached out and caught her wrist, halting her in her tracks. He blushed too, unsure how to progress after that instinctive move. "Louise…"

"Don't make this more awkward than it has to be, Humbert. You don't want this conversation, not really. Just let me be."

"Louise, I don't know what to say–"

"Then don't say anything."

"–but I'm going to try," Baron continued, unperturbed by Louise's words. "I never meant to hurt you, but I guess that doesn't make much difference, in the end because you're still hurting. Before all this, I did love you in the same way that you love me. If I had never met Haru… then I feel that we would have gone down that path without any regret." He dropped his gaze to the side, but even looking away from her, Baron could feel the stillness rolling off her. "But I doubt that makes you feel any better. Louise, I don't love you any less, but I do love you differently. I… I'm sorry."

Louise didn't look back, but she twisted her wrist out of his grasp and slipped her fingers between his. "Your family must be worried sick. I'll tell them that you're remaining here for the night and that you should return to them tomorrow."

"I… Louise… Thank you…"

"Just don't do anything stupid when the time comes," she said, her voice flat as if afraid to open the floodgates of emotions. "When you meet my father, don't try to change him. Nothing you can say will convince him that the gryphon is anything other than a fatal threat. Just nod, lie, and deny all knowledge, okay? If you mess this up, I won't be able to save you."

"I understand. And… thank you. Again."

Louise tugged her hand free and resisted the urge to look back. "You try to be a good person, Humbert. Just make sure it doesn't backfire on you."


	12. The Edge of Treason

_Only enemies speak the truth; friends and lovers lie endlessly, caught in the web of duty."_

_~ Stephen King_

Chapter 12: The Edge of Treason

Louise lingered on the porch of the von Gikkingen's home, a hand half-raised to the door. She had little clue as to the type of greeting she could expect from the residents, and even less of an idea of what she was going to say.

Her knuckles brushed over the door, ghosting a knock before she gathered the courage to announce her arrival. She flexed her fingers and then rapped her knuckles against the wood.

There was an audible scuffing of chair legs against a tiled floor, and seconds later the door was swung open by Humbert's mother.

Elora froze at the door, surprise written over her face as a mute 'oh' passed over her lips. Her gaze shifted behind Louise, searching for the son who wasn't there. At seeing Humbert's absence, a new unease sank into her already-worried eyes. "Is everything all right? My son – what…?"

"Humbert's fine," Louise said. "My father plans on speaking to him tomorrow, so he's not going to be back tonight. I thought you should know."

"Well, at least the situation hasn't worsened," Elora murmured. Louise doubted that she was meant to hear that. Louder, she added, "Why don't you come in? We still have some tea in the pot."

"Oh, no; I should really be going." Louise took a half-step away from the threshold, but still lingered. "I know you've got a lot happening right now, so I should really just–"

The rest of Louise's half-hearted reasoning was interrupted by the slamming of the back door. She instantly recognised the twofold footsteps of Muta and Toto; even if she hadn't, the kerfuffle they made would have given them away before long.

"Why do you have the flower?"

"I would have thought that was simple, puddingbrain – with those sausage fingers, you'd crush it in an instant!"

"Says who?"

"Says me!" Toto and Muta thundered into the hallway and came to a staggered halt. "Good evening, Lady von Gikkingen."

Muta rolled his eyes at the hasty half-bow Toto offered to Elora. "We've got the flower."

"So I see. May I have it?"

Toto dropped the bud into Elora's open palm. "Do you think that will be enough? It seems so small."

"But potent, I expect," she replied. She turned the rosy-red blossom over in her hands, admiring the velvety petals. "Hopefully its renewing qualities will be retained after I've converted it into a remedy. Toto, I'm going to need an extra pair of hands in preparing the tonic. Do you think you know enough to help?"

He grinned. "I read all the herbalist books you lent me, Lady von Gikkingen. I'll try my best."

"Then come along. Muta, please make sure my meddlesome husband doesn't try to interrupt – I'm sure he'd love to get his hands on the flower, but it's for medicinal purposes only. Once this nightmare is over, then he can negotiate a fairy flower from Haru."

Muta grunted.

Elora took this as an agreement and grabbed a couple of aprons from her office doorway. She threw one at Toto and began to tie the second around her waist.

The moment the door was swung shut, Muta grunted again and scoffed, "Star-struck idiot."

"I don't know. I think it's kind of cute," Louise said with a tired smile. "He's getting to work with his idol."

"Yeah, yeah." For perhaps the first time since returning, Muta noted Louise's presence and what it might mean. "Hey, what are yer doing here anyway? Baron's alright, isn't he?"

"Baron?"

Muta shook his head. "Humbert. Sorry. All the fairies seem to call him that. I guess it suits him."

"I guess it does." Louise tugged at a seam of her skirt nervously. "I just came to pass on the news that Humbert is staying the night at the palace."

There was a gruff laugh from Muta. "The palace? Or the dungeons?"

"The latter," Louise admitted. "I didn't want to worry anyone."

"Ah, well; no harm's gonna come to him from spending a night in the cells." He laughed again, a little uncomfortably this time. "It's when he gets outta the cells that he might be dropping himself into danger."

"I know."

Muta glanced over at the woman, and now heard the tiredness in her voice. "Hey, it's gonna be alright, you know. Things will sort themselves out." He shrugged awkwardly. "They always do."

Louise was silent.

"Hey, do you wanna come and see the gryphon?"

"I think I'm okay."

"Fine. I just thought it'd beat standing around waiting." Muta motioned to the stairs. "Might as well get to know the fairy we're putting our lives on the line for."

Louise glanced to the upper landing, where the von Gikkingens' guest room lay. She had only seen the fairy once, and once was enough to see the worry that Humbert bore for the individual.

" _I think you would really like her, if you got to know her. She's curious and brave, with a heart far too kind for her own good. You two are a lot alike, I think_."

Wasn't that what Humbert had said? But, then again, Humbert was too eager to see the good in someone to be a decent judge of character. It was easier that way, for him. He stirred up less conflict.

"Sure."

She didn't know why she agreed, but the words still slipped from her before she could reconsider. She attempted a smile that she knew Muta would see past. "Why not?"

And yet, as she ascended the stairs, her mind supplied all sorts of reasons _why not_. Most of them revolved around her own father. Some focused on the monstrous legends that surrounded gryphons. And a few fluttered short of her own heartache.

"Hey, Chicky; we've got a newcomer." Muta pushed open the door and Louise saw, once again, the cause of their chaos.

Draped in blankets and her own feathery wings, Haru shifted from where she lay in the guest bed. A wing lifted and brought her pale face into the light. Dark, brown, _human_ eyes blinked and focused on the blonde.

"Who…? Who are you?"

"Louise. I'm a… friend of Humbert's."

A feeble smile twitched at Haru's lips. Her eyes closed again. "Good."

Louise found herself drifting over to the fairy. Of course, she had seen the gryphon before, but unconscious. Her curiosity got the better of her – curiosity not only of the fairy, but of the woman who had caught Humbert's heart – and she knelt down beside the bed, tilting her head to get a better look at the fairy's face. "Is she sick?" she asked.

"I dunno. Elora said that she needed the fairy flowers to get better, so I guess so." Muta stayed at the door, carefully watching the two's interactions. "She said something about Chicky needing to be in the forest to really recover." He shrugged uncomfortably. "But it's not like we can just take her back as she is. The kid can barely move right now."

"I'm not a kid," Haru mumbled. She eased an eye open and glared weakly at the man. "Stop calling me that."

"Fine, Chicky."

Haru snorted, but didn't object to the nickname. Her gaze moved to Louise, and it took her eyes several stinted seconds to focus on the blonde woman. "Hello."

"… Hello."

Haru groaned and uneasily pushed herself up into a sitting position.

"Hey – yer not meant to be moving, Chicky–"

"I'm fine." She brought her wings about her, covering up the worst of the burns, but Louise didn't fail to note them. They had lessened in colour since their last encounter, but they showed no sign of healing over. She grinned at Louise and the smile transformed her face. "Hello."

"Hello… again." Louise offered a dubious smile back at the fairy, but her eyes trailed cautiously back to the hidden burns. "I'm sorry… about what has been done to you."

"I'm fine," Haru repeated, and now it began to sound like a mantra Haru was using to convince herself more than others. "I'll be fine." Regardless, the smile faded, and the pain she had been trying to cover started to slip back into her eyes. "How do you know about me?"

"I helped Humbert to escape with you from the forest," Louise said. "Well," she admitted, "I was worried about him, so I followed him into the forest and found you." Next thing she knew, she was lying to the guards and throwing them off in the wrong direction.

"Oh. Thank you."

"Don't mention it. I mean, really; don't mention it. My father would never forgive me if he discovered the truth."

"Who is your father?"

She knew her heritage would turn up sooner or later. At least this way she was facing it straight on. She met Haru's gaze with a look of her own; the same look that Humbert had been unable to break away from. "My father is the King."

A slight widening of eyes, a quickening of breath; both reactions that were far too tame for the ugly truth. Yet tiredness – both emotional and physical – prevented Haru from doing anything else. She sank back into her propped pillows, staring shamelessly at the Princess. "The _King_?"

Louise nodded.

Haru's wings quivered about her, as if resisting the urge to encase her away from the world. But she didn't break from Louise's gaze or shy away from the woman. "Does he…?"

"Know about you?" Louise offered. She shook her head. "No."

A silence settled between them, too heavy for Muta to risk disturbing. While Louise waited for a verdict, Haru seemed caught up in her own thoughts. Dark eyes flickered over Louise, measuring up the young woman and the truths she had told.

An uneasy smile tugged at Haru's lips. "Thank you, then. For not giving me away." The smile found footing and grew steadier. "I can't believe there are so many humans willing to help me. I never imagined that the King's own _daughter_ …"

"Trust me, I'm having problems believing it myself," Louise said.

A laugh escaped Haru. She caught herself, but not before both humans had heard her snort. "Sorry. I don't mean to laugh at you, I just... It's just been a long day." She executed a hasty, somewhat uncoordinated bow, as best as she could from the limitations of her bed. "Thank you, again, for keeping my secret. I can't imagine it is easy to keep such a thing from your own father."

"No, but there's not much to be done now. After all, what's the alternative?"

Haru didn't reply, and Louise abruptly remembered the stories of the last fateful human-gryphon encounter. For the fairy, the alternative outcome wasn't as hypothetical as Louise might imagine. The severed wings were proof of that. This line of thought latched on to a sudden realisation.

"Haru, the wings in the palace, what…?"

Louise let the question trail off, not entirely sure how to end it and not sure whether she wanted to hear the answer anyway. But the gryphon her father slew was reputed to be the last one; if Haru lived, then what creature did the wings belong to?

"They're my mother's." Haru was becoming very familiar with the look of pity that her admission brought. "She's gone," she said, before the inevitable question could follow. "And, no; I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay."

There was a squeak as Louise took a seat at the edge of the bed.

Haru looked up, surprised at the human's movements, but surprised yet more by the undemanding silence that settled between them. Louise didn't look her way, didn't even attempt to make eye contact; she simply unfocused her gaze on an unremarkable patch of carpet while her mind whirred over some internal process. Finally, she spoke.

"Humbert said I should get to know you," she said. "He said I would like you, if I gave you a chance."

Haru was silent.

"Well? Are you going to say anything? Aren't you going to try to convince me he was right?" Her words, although harsh in nature, were tired. "Please… don't just sit there."

"I don't know what to say," Haru murmured. "I'm… I'm not good with people. I've never had any practice. I don't know what I should say in this situation."

"Perhaps you should try the truth," Louise suggested dryly.

"Does that usually work?"

"Not really, but it typically beats the alternative." Louise sighed but still didn't make eye contact with the fairy. "It would be so much easier if I could just hate you. If you were just the monster from the stories, and not so… human. Then everyone could go back to their ordinary lives, back to the way things were."

"I… I'm sorry."

Louise scoffed, and finally raised her gaze. A half-hearted smile attempted to settle itself on her lips. "For what? Not being a monster? For befriending Humbert? Those are foolish things to apologise for."

Haru was silent again, but this time the silence was filled with her internal gears whirring away. Eventually, she attempted to give her best understanding of what Louise had asked for – the truth.

"Before I met Baron, I had never really had a friend," she whispered, and she sensed Muta – who was still lingering at the door – subtly tune back into the conversation. "To the other fairies, I'm more of their protector than their companion, and even Machida guards me out of a sense of duty rather than comradeship… and then I met Baron." A smile, unbidden rose to her lips. "I liked his curiosity, the fact that I was as new and unknowable to him as he was to me. I liked the way he saw the world. It was all… so new." Her gaze flickered up, to the doorway which was filled by Muta's engulfing girth. "I never imagined that I'd even have one human friend, let alone many. That's why I don't know really what to say or do; this is a whole new world I've stumbled into."

Louise smiled ruefully. "When I was younger, I didn't get the chance to play much with other children. For at least the first five years of my life, my interaction with people was limited to my father and my nanny. My mother died in childbirth, you see," she said, "and there weren't many kids in the palace. Except for one. The son of a baron, the child of some family friends. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to avoid him. But he came and found me." Her smile sweetened a little at the memory. "One day, when our parents were talking, he escaped and found where I was hiding. He had seen me around, you see, and he had decided to try to befriend the lonely girl in the palace. It's always been in his nature."

Louise paused, reliving those faded memories. The years had worn them down, but she still remembered Humbert finding her in the far-flung corners of the library, his eyes bright with curiosity. Was that the same Humbert that Haru had met? The curious youth who was almost boyish in his optimism, who would offer a hand of friendship to the girl hiding behind her books?

"Seems like both of you are strays he picked up along the way," Muta half-snorted. Unintentionally, his words served to lighten the atmosphere – or perhaps it was deliberate. Either way, Haru smiled weakly at the comment.

"I guess you could say that."

Louise found herself smiling back. "It's not too far off the truth, after all."

A wave of exhaustion swept over Haru, and whatever second wind had been keeping her going came to an abrupt end. She swayed where she sat, her wings folding in on themselves before they could tip her balance, and Louise caught the gryphon's shoulders before she could collapse.

"I hope Toto and Elora are nearly finished with the restorative," Louise muttered. Haru's form had paled yet further in their discussion, the bags under her eyes more pronounced than ever. She gently lowered Haru back onto the bed, carefully trying not to catch the cumbersome wings. "It looks like we're running out of time."

She paused a while longer to look down on the gryphon, and she tried to fit her father's stories of monsters and beasts with the winged woman fading before her.

"How could we have got it so wrong?" she murmured.

She shook her head and rose to her feet, staggering a little as she regained her balance.

"Looks like Chicky's not the only one who's knackered," Muta said. "Too much excitement in one day, huh? You should stay a while, Princess."

"I should get back to the palace. My father…" She trailed off as she recalled the rage she had worked so hard to diminish in the King. Tiredness flooded over her bones at the thought of combating that again. "Maybe I will stay a little longer. Just to see how the restorative works out."

Half an hour later, Muta found her curled up on a sofa, snoring slightly. He chuckled to himself and draped a blanket over the woman before retreating to the kitchen and raiding the cupboards once again. His evening snack was disturbed when there was the abrupt sound of Lady von Gikkingen springing from her office.

He leant out into the hallway to see her clasping a vial of a dusty-pink liquid in hand as she sped upstairs. Toto appeared quickly after, struggling to remove his apron as he followed after the woman.

"Hey, is that the potion for Chicky?" He started after them, sniggering a little as Toto caught the strap of his apron on the stairway banister and nearly slammed into the railings. He stepped around Toto and continued after Baron's mother.

"Indeed. I've drawn from all my notes on plants from similar families, trying to come up with a treatment to the flower that will draw out its restorative properties, but I have no idea whether it'll work until I try." Elora's eyes were uncannily bright, despite the bags under them. Muta was strongly reminded of Humbert's father when he had received a batch of new books the night before.

The two men followed after the older woman upstairs, even as Elora babbled on about the challenges of the fairy flower.

"Did you know that the fairy trees are actually related to a type of fungus called a honey fungus? It's just bizarre how far they physiologically differ, but for some reason that's the closest relative we can make out – of course, they look nothing alike, but that's science for you! It didn't make preparing it any easier though–"

"Geez, Birdbrain's the one who's interested in all this plant malarkey," Muta snorted. He pointedly pushed open the door of the guest room, deliberately reminding Elora the reason for the restorative to begin with. "So why don't ya lecture him about it after we've seen to the kid, huh?"

"Could you be any ruder, fatso?"

"Actually, he has a point," Elora admitted. She side-stepped the two men and hurried inside with the vial.

"Haru? Haru, my dear; are you awake?"

One dark eye eased itself open. Seconds passed while it focused on the woman before it.

"Is it morning already?" Haru croaked.

"No, it's still the evening. But, look, I have something that should renew your strength. Can you sit up?"

Haru nodded grimly and slowly pushed herself up. When Toto moved to help, Haru motioned for her to do this alone. "I'm fine," she grunted. "I just need… to take this carefully." Her wings shifted away from the bedcovers, helping to support her as she righted herself. Her arms shook, but she raised a hand to take the vial. "So do I just drink this?"

"Yes."

Haru sniffed at the contents, and then, when it didn't repulse her, smiled feebly at the herbalist. "Thanks." She downed it in a single mouthful and, even as she gave it back, a peaceful sigh passed through her. "That's… That's not bad." She leant back against her pillows. Her smile strengthened a little. "My compliments to the chef."

As Haru fell back into the thrall of slumber, Muta leant uneasily towards Elora. "Will it work?"

"I hope so."

ooOoo

Footsteps awoke Baron from the edge of a fitful sleep. His mind readjusted to his surroundings just in time for his cell door to be opened and a couple of guards to step inside.

He offered a tired lopsided smile. "I don't suppose you've come bearing breakfast, perchance? Or lunch; whatever mealtime we're at now?" He was unceremoniously hoisted to his feet. "I guess not."

"It's time for your appointment with the King."

"I didn't arrange any such appointment," Baron murmured, but his half-hearted humour fell on deaf ears. Taking as his cue to forgo his usual smart comments, he restrained from remarking further until he was escorted out of the dungeons.

After a night in the torch-lit gloom of his cell, the low morning light seemed impossibly bright. He staggered at first, disorientation making it feel as if the ground had just shivered beneath his feet. But then it persisted, even after he had acclimatised to the daylight.

It wasn't just him. The ground really had just shook.

Earthquake?

A sound groaned through the air. It was slow and steady at first; the creak of a door swinging open, but impossibly loud. It grew in strength and pitch until it was joined by the crash of something giant slamming into the ground. Baron felt the impact ripple through the earth and rattle beneath his feet.

He froze. For a moment, the only movement came from his accelerating breathing and his whirring mind.

No…

"What's happening? What's going on?"

The shorter guard scoffed. "What do you think? They're searching for the gryphon."

"By destroying the forest?" Baron demanded. "But… they can't!"

Another tree toppled. The ground shook again.

"It sounds to me like they can," the guard laughed. "Come on; if you've got a problem with it, you can tell the King."

"I wish it were that easy," Baron muttered. He slowed as they came to the doors to the Entrance Hall, his heart hammering in his throat. The doors swung slowly inward – dramatically so, Baron thought – and he was steadily escorted across the room.

The King sat in all his finery, with shoulders too broad and large hands that spoke of a life that had once been spent on manual labour. Baron had often admired Louise's father for that; for coming from such a humble background and never letting his new life erase that from him. But now all he could see was the strength and stubbornness the King had gained from both sides of life.

Behind the throne, the wings of Haru's mother still stood to display, the tired feathers faded with their years behind glass. Baron's eyes were unwillingly drawn to them. To Haru's future if they didn't change their paths soon.

Bile rose up in Baron's throat. He choked it back and dropped his gaze to the man seated in the throne before it. Dark brown eyes met green, the former filled with too many emotions for Baron to make sense of.

"Humbert. I had never imagined that it would ever come to this. I'm sorry. But I hope you understand the gravity of your situation."

"I've done nothing wrong," Baron said.

"Lying to your King is a treasonable offence, Humbert."

"It's not a lie," Baron insisted, and he felt the truth of his words in his heart. If helping someone in need was wrong, then the world was at fault, not him.

"Then can you swear that you have not been helping the gryphon?"

" _Just nod, lie, and deny all knowledge, okay?"_

Those had been Louise's words. Louise's warning.

" _If you mess this up, I won't be able to save you."_

He met the King's gaze. "I have never helped a gryphon, Your Majesty."

"Have you ever talked with a gryphon?"

"No."

"Have you ever met a gryphon?"

"No."

"Did you know anything about the gryphon until it was captured in the forest?"

"No."

The King wavered in his questioning, and Baron saw hesitation pass before his monarch's face. The man had been a stoic uncle-figure to Baron since he had been young, and now that relationship was straining them both. The King released a sigh that seemed to age him. "Nonetheless, you have displayed certain… fairy sympathies in the last few weeks," he said finally. The ground shook with another fallen tree. "Such sympathies are dangerous in this day and age, Humbert. Those monsters will exploit any weakness they can get their claws into, creating enemies out of allies."

"Is that why you're destroying the forest?" Baron snapped.

His heart lurched in misgiving the moment the words had left his lips, but it was already too late. His mouth ran dry and the momentary anger drained from his eyes.

The King observed the young man. That shadow of age and tiredness retreated into silent, latent power. Suddenly, he was the King again, not the family friend. Suddenly, he was the man sworn to protect his kingdom from whatever threat, whether it came from inside or out, reared its head.

"The forest has grown too wild. Our neglect in pruning it back is exactly what has enabled the gryphon to go undetected all these years. Who knows what other secrets the fairies hide in their forest? It is about time we humans retook our land. Too long have we been too scared to venture into its depths; too long have the fairies terrorised us; too long have we lived in fear."

"Terrorised us?" Baron repeated. "They protect their home, as we would ours!"

"Which is exactly what we are doing!" the King roared. "If we let them go unchecked, they'll run out of control! They'll try to claim our land, our homes!"

"And how is what you're doing any different?" Baron demanded.

"This is war!"

"No!" Baron stumbled forward, surprising himself and the guards by breaking away from them. He heard them draw their swords, but they didn't approach. "There is no war! There are just two sides trying desperately to survive! They mean us no harm, but you are bringing the fight to them! If we stop now, we still have a chance at peace!"

"And how would you know that, boy? How could you have any idea of their intentions unless you had conversed with one such creature?"

Baron baulked. "I…"

The King's eyes narrowed. "You lied to your King, Humbert. Just as, I'm sure, the fairies have been lying to you. They cannot be trusted. Just as a subject who turns his back on his kingdom cannot be."

"I have never turned my back on this kingdom."

"You are protecting the fairies, Humbert. You have sided with them."

"There are no sides!" Baron snapped. "All I see are people too scared of the unknown to make it known. The fairies are not our enemies, but if you continue to destroy their home, they'll have no choice but to retaliate. You are not finishing a war; you are starting one!" The anger, the fear for Haru, was coursing through his blood, the adrenaline clouding his judgement. "Your fear of the gryphon's revenge is making you blind!"

"What do you know, Humbert?"

"I know how you tricked the last gryphon into trusting you," Baron snarled. "I know how you used her feelings for you to tear the wings from her back; I know how you couldn't kill her, so you left her flightless, where the iron infection eventually killed her; I know how the guilt still haunts you even now, otherwise you wouldn't be so afraid of the gryphon. What did you tell her, Your Majesty? What lies did you give to gain her trust? You may not have killed her outright, but your actions directly led to her death."

"ENOUGH!"

The King had rose to his feet, his chest rising and falling rapidly as rage filled his eyes. "You don't know what you're talking about, boy. I had no choice – it was the kingdom or her–"

"There's always a choice," Baron growled. Haru's words came flooding back to him, and now he understood, better than ever, the passion that had fuelled her insistence. Someone had had the same choice as him, twenty years ago, and had taken a very different path.

He wasn't going to let it happen again.

"You made a mistake, but you don't have to repeat it," he continued. "You can still stop this fight before it goes too far. You still have a choice."

"I chose this path long ago," the King said. "There is no choice anymore. So tell me, where is the gryphon, boy?"

"I don't know."

"Yes, you do. Even if we tear apart the whole forest, it could take us weeks, months to find the creature. The guard report that the gryphon seemed injured after being captured; it could not have got far alone, so where is it? Where is it hiding?"

"I don't know."

"LIAR!" The statement bounced off the walls about them, slowly receding to silence, broken only by the heavy breathing of the King. "I see it in your eyes. You still cling to protect your precious gryphon. Well, that won't last for long. Guards – search the von Gikkingen home for any sign of the gryphon's true whereabouts."

"Wait – no!" Baron started towards the King, but found himself suddenly halted by guards holding him back. "You can't just do that–"

The King stepped down from the throne's platform and approached the struggling young man. "And make sure to bring my old friends, the Baron and Baroness," he added to the guards. His gaze moved to Baron, and regret passed by his eyes. "You parents must be horrified by your treachery, Humbert. The son of the family responsible for bringing down the last gryphon… now turning his back on his kingdom to help the monsters. It's a twisted turn of events."

Baron grimaced at the King. "You don't know the half of it."

ooOoo

Louise had never intended to stay at the von Gikkingens' overnight, but the truth of the matter was that she awoke the next morning still on their sofa, regardless of intention. She wasn't the only one; in an aged armchair slouched Toto, and in the kitchen was Muta, snoring like a saw through wood.

She smiled as she passed by her friends, detouring to the kitchen to start a fresh pot of tea. The morning was deceptively peaceful, given all that had happened in the last day. So peaceful Louise could almost believe it had all been a dream, right until the thunder of another falling tree sent ripples through the tea.

She steadied the pot as another sound rattled through the house.

It came again, and it took Louise several stinted seconds to realise it was someone knocking at the von Gikkingens' front door. She abandoned the tea and made it to the hallway at the same time as Elora.

"Who is it?"

"Perhaps Humbert is already being returned to us," Elora suggested hopefully. The knocking came at the door again, louder this time. "All right!" she snapped. "All right! I'm coming. Honestly, Humbert; I had hoped I had brought you up better than… this…"

She trailed off as she opened the door to a porch crowded with guards. She barely registered the bright blue of their uniforms before she had protectively slammed an arm across the doorway.

"What do you want?" she snarled. "Where's my son?"

"We've come to search the premises for the missing gryphon," the head guard said. "Please, Lady von Gikkingen, let us pass."

"Or what? What's happened to my son? What's happened to Humbert?"

"Or we will have to use force. As for your son, he is currently being detained for treason."

"No…" Elora's hand slipped away, and that weakness gave the guards an opening. They pushed past the two women, flooding across the downstairs rooms and awakening Toto and Muta in the process. Elora sped after them, demanding for them to stop and answer her wherever she had a chance to protest.

Louise remained frozen at the doorway, her mind still reeling as the von Gikkingens' home was ransacked. "You… _idiot_ , Humbert," she whispered. "I told you not to do anything stupid." An uproar rose in Edmund's study as the guards tore through his lifelong research, confiscating anything possibly relevant to fairies – which was all of it. She heard words screamed at the guards that she would never admit to knowing.

In the commotion, Toto slipped past the guards and out into the hallway. He grabbed Louise's arm. "Come on. We need to warn Haru," he said and sprinted up the stairs. He glanced back at the woman when she didn't verbally respond. "Louise? Are you okay?"

"Humbert's being held for treason," Louise said. "What did he say to my father?"

"I'm sure we'll find out soon. It'll be okay."

"No!" Louise jerked her arm free from Toto, halting at the last few steps. "No, it won't be! You don't know my father like I do! He's… He's terrified of gryphons. He can't see sense where they're concerned! He won't forgive anyone for helping them."

"Louise…"

"I can't save Humbert now; don't you understand? My father won't listen to me, not about this!"

Toto turned around to face the young woman, gently setting his hands on her arms despite the chaos spiralling out on the floor below them. "I do. Trust me, I do. Humbert's my friend too, but right now we have to focus on what we can do. And what we can do is save Haru. Okay?" He lowered his head to meet Louise's dropped gaze. "Please, Louise. We don't have much time."

Louise slipped her arm softly from Toto's grip this time, and took his hand in hers, giving it a quick squeeze to reassure him she was strong enough for this. She nodded. "All right."

"Good." Toto sprinted up the last few steps and burst into the guest room. "Haru?"

Louise pushed past him and stepped right up to the gryphon curled up in the corner of the room. "Haru, everything's going to be okay…"

"They're looking for me, aren't they?" Haru asked. Her legs were tucked up against her, like a child playing hide-and-seek, making themselves as small as humanly possible. The action was near-duplicated in Haru's form, save for the wings that rose above her, casting her in shadow.

"Not yet, they aren't," Toto said. "I think they're just looking for clues as to your whereabouts."

"But sooner or later they're going to come up here, and we won't be able to hide you, what with the way they're tearing through the rooms," Louise added. "You need to leave."

"But, if they spot me–"

"If they capture you, it'll be far worse." Louise moved to the window and unlatched it. She pushed it out as far as it would go. "Can you fly?"

Haru rose slowly to her feet. Her wings flexed experimentally above her, and Louise was relieved to see some strength had returned to the gryphon. No longer did she look like she was on Death's doorstep – but would it be enough to enable her escape?

"I don't know," Haru said. "My wing is still injured after…" She shook her head abruptly, cutting herself off. "I guess I don't have much choice in the matter." She stepped up to the window and, wings tucking themselves behind her, squeezed herself through the opening.

She landed clumsily on the roof of the room below, her feet skittering to find purchase on the tiles. She glanced back to the two humans. "Thank you," she breathed. "You didn't have to do this."

"You should thank Humbert," Louise said. "He's the one who started all this."

Haru grinned. "I know. Oh, Baron's book!" She clung onto the windowsill and leant back into the room, gesturing to the bed. "Quick – can you pass it to me? It's under the bed!"

Toto fished the notebook out. "Sure, but what's–?"

The door slammed open before he could finish.

"There's the gryphon! Get her!"

Louise ran to the window and slammed it shut. "Go!"

"The book!" Haru cried.

"No time!"

Louise was thrown to the ground as the guards pushed past her. They fumbled at the latch, but Haru was already moving. To Louise's shock, however, the gryphon turned and scrambled up onto the roof above them, her pounding footsteps echoing through the ceiling.

The guards shoved at the window, but even when the hinges gave way, they couldn't fit through the opening.

Above them, Louise could hear Haru's footsteps stop at one end of the house. A moment's silence passed, marred only by the guards battling to get a clear view of their prey, and then Haru was suddenly sprinting across the rooftop. Her footsteps changed, softening and doubling in their rhythm as if a great beast had taken her place, and then one final footstep pounded against the roof. A gush of wind swept across the house, rattling tiles free and a shadow swooped over them.

The guards fell back, but Louise only stepped up to the window.

Already in the distance, Haru soared through the air in her feline form. Louise leant towards the glass, watching, mesmerised, as the gryphon glided back to her home. She was losing height; she beat her wings to try to remedy that, but the action seemed to hurt Haru. She toppled from the sky, crashing down into the darkness of the forest.

Louise was dragged away from the window before she had time to make sense of events, dragged back into her immediate surroundings. The guards had Toto, and now Humbert's parents and Muta were being brought up to the room as well, all entangled in their web of lies.

The head guard took the book from Toto, flicking through the first few pages – namely the sketches of Haru in her gryphon form – before snapping it shut and looking to the people before him. "I see this treachery is far more extensive than anyone could have imagined. Very well then; to the palace it is."


	13. The Past Repeated

Chapter 13: The Past Repeated

_Once upon a time, the land was filled with fairies. All kinds of fairies. Fairies that pilfered freshly-baked bread, and fairies that tangled hair in the night, and even fairies that stole socks – but only the left ones. There were boggarts and pixies, brownies and elves, and they all resided in the forest that bordered the human kingdom. And the humans tolerated their fey neighbours, as well as they could, for the creatures were troublesome and mischievous and were a constant danger to the humans._

_But one day a fairy more dangerous than the others appeared. She was a gryphon – a rare, winged fairy whose presence scared the humans. So the childless king made a decree that whoever slew the beast would become his heir._

_Needless to say, many young men tried – and failed – to take down the creature. She was too quick and too cautious to be caught by any ordinary means._

_Almost._

_Nearly a year passed, and hope was dwindling, when a young peasant tricked the fairy. With the help of an enchanted dagger and a sleeping draught, he killed the gryphon and severed her wings from her back. He presented her wings to the king, and thus the fairy threat was eliminated, for once and for all._

_In time, the peasant became king, as promised, and the king a husband, and finally a father. He ruled fairly and justly, and the humans were pleased with their new ruler; a ruler with humble beginnings, who knew of their hardships and troubles, and he was loved by many. And the evil fairy, who had so threatened their kingdom, was gone and the kingdom lived on in peace._

_Or so the story goes..._

ooOoo

It had been many years since the last gryphon had been slain. It had been many years since the King had thought back – truly thought back – to the events of those days. For two decades, the story had settled into a recent legend, into the tale of a young man defeating a monster. The gryphon's wings had remained mounted behind glass to serve as a permanent reminder of the danger that still lurked beyond the city walls, and of the measures taken to secure their safety.

And now all that had come crumbling around him.

Rage shivered through him as he regarded the traitors before him. Kids, barely out of their adolescence; friends, known for more than twenty years, his allies in his defeat of the first gryphon; family, his own daughter…

"Is there no one left," he whispered, "on whom I can trust? Must those closest to me betray me so?" His gaze passed over the elder von Gikkingens. "Edmund… Elora… after all the help you gave me then, why do you betray me now? How can you side with those… monsters?"

"She's not a monster!"

The King dropped his gaze away to focus on his daughter. "Louise…"

"They're not monsters," she said. "You can't do this, Father; you can't destroy the forest. It's… It's inhumane. It's cruel."

"They're not human, Louise," her father said. "It's easier if you remember that."

"Is that how you did it?" Baron asked. "How you convinced yourself to take the last gryphon's wings? You told yourself she wasn't human and, what? Unable to feel pain? Unable to feel betrayal? Unable to love?"

The King's form stilled, and when he turned to Baron there was a bitter smile on his tired face. "Ah, the boy who started it all. I see the world is a very black-and-white affair for you. It was never nearly as simple as that."

Baron leant forward, his smile echoing the King's, but desperation flickering behind his eyes."Then educate me. How do you justify murder?"

"I didn't murder her," the King snarled. "I spared her. I took her wings, convincing King Stefan that she was dead. If I hadn't, more men would have gone looking for her, more men would have gone tearing through the forest, and eventually one of them would have killed her. You don't understand. I _saved_ her."

"You didn't save her," Baron growled. "You took her wings to make yourself king. And you've been scared all these years that she would come back to haunt you because you know that what you did was wrong. You may not have killed her that night, but you must have known that a gryphon without her wings would not survive. The sky is in their blood."

"I had no choice–"

"You always have a choice!" Baron roared. "And you chose power over loyalty!"

The King surveyed the young noble, a flicker of anger and unease passing over his eyes. He turned away. "You really do think it's that simple, don't you?" He opened the wing cabinet and retrieved something from the bottom of the case. "Well then, I think it's time you received a choice of your own."

He closed the cabinet doors, the latch falling into place with an audible click. He turned back to the traitors. In his hands was a dagger, its handle carved with runes.

"This is the dagger I used to severe her wings."

Baron glanced to the weapon, understanding coming slow. "What…"

"As your king, I am ordering you to bring the gryphon's wings to me."

"No. I won't. You can't make me."

"No, I can't. But I can give you an ultimatum. Bring back the gryphon's wings, or I'll continue to destroy the forest." He motioned for a guard to bring the book which Toto had been caught with. He flicked it open to one of the later pages. "It says here that the fairies cannot live without their trees: Is this true?"

Baron's heart skipped a beat as he recognised the notebook. "Please, no…"

The King turned to an earlier page. "Is it true that they are allergic to high concentrations of salt?"

"Your Majesty…"

"Is it true that they burn in contact with iron?"

"You can't–"

The King snapped the book shut. "But I can. You see, Humbert; I do not need your help to defeat the gryphon anymore; you've already given me everything I need to wipe those creatures from the kingdom. And yet, such measures would be… messy." He lowered the book, his eyes observing Baron's reaction. "The gryphon is our biggest threat; if it is exterminated, then, perhaps, the rest of the forest and its inhabitants can be left in peace."

"I can't kill her."

"You don't need to, boy. All I ask for are her wings."

"I can't do that."

"Then you condemn the forest to its fate."

"You're the one who's destroying it," Baron growled.

"Indeed. But you are the one with the chance to stop it." With one hand, he offered the historical dagger, the blade keen with a sharpness that spoke of close maintenance. He pressed it into Baron's palm. "You are now the one with the choice. I will find the gryphon, with or without your help, boy. It's only a matter of how much destruction comes first."

Baron's fingers curled around the dagger. It was cold and heavy, and crafted entirely from iron. "How long do I have?"

The King's eyes crinkled with a smile, grim satisfaction settling over his face. "So you finally see the truth, Humbert. No resolve can go unbroken. Even you can choose this path when the time is right."

"So that's what this is about," Baron snarled. "You just want to prove that you can drag others down to your level; to have my actions resolve you of your guilt."

"No. I just want you to understand my decisions."

"You want me to repeat your mistakes so that you are no longer alone in your deeds. And you would destroy a civilisation to achieve it!"

"The fairies aren't people, Humbert. No matter how human they may look; they are still nothing more than beasts. Now, you have until the sun sets this evening. Return empty-handed and I will resume to destroy the forest. Fail to return at all, and not only will the forest suffer, but your family and friends will be thrown into disgrace also."

Baron glanced to his parents, and then to his companions. His parents had always had one foot in the world of the fae, but his friends… They had been dragged into this through nothing more than their concern for him. He heaved his gaze back to the King. "Please, leave them out of it. I'm the one who's at fault here. I'm the one who started all this."

The King only smiled. "Then you better make sure you return."

ooOoo

Baron stood at the edge of the forest, the ominous dagger clasped in hand and a potent sleeping potion in his jacket pocket. Both weighed heavily on him and his conscience.

"Haru?"

He stepped into the shadows of the outmost trees, heart hammering in his chest. If the King had asked him to do this but a fortnight ago, would he? True, he had never harboured any amity towards the fairies, but it was one thing to throw them out from the house; it was another to rip the wings off a living, breathing creature.

He slowed, shivers running through him despite the warm morning air. No, even when he had first faced Haru – even before he had known her – he had been unable to fire that second arrow. The fight had gone from him as quickly as the adrenaline had drained away, and he had left her there.

"Haru?" His voice echoed between the trees, but there was no sound of the gryphon bounding towards him. He should have known that Haru would have retreated further into the forest.

As he travelled deeper, there was an opening in the dense population of trees, marked by streams of light. Drawn like a moth to a flame, he approached the opening, until a huge bush blocked his way. Baron paid it little thought and detoured around it.

It wasn't a bush.

Now standing to the side of it, Baron could see the expansive tree trunk that lay across the forest floor. Its end was severed with rough, man-made marks, its fall broken by the numerous smaller plants that had been crushed beneath it.

Baron started towards the light, running now as horror lined his face. The ground was stained a blood-red by the flowers that had broken free from the fallen tree, their petals crumpled and lifeless now.

The devastation was worse than he'd feared. Until now, it'd been an abstract, unimaginable thought. Part of him had wanted to believe that he could still stop this before any more lasting harm was done. Before the damage became irreparable.

And now, he stood before the fruit of his efforts. The ground lay bare before him, marked by the broken tree stumps and their severed companions. It lay like a scar across the earth.

And he hadn't been able to stop it.

He drifted across the torn earth, where the footprints of the culprits still lingered even when the human themselves were gone. There was an emptiness to the air, a hollowness that spoke of sorrow. Gone was the liveliness of the forest; gone was the whisper of fairies in the trees. Left in its place was only silence.

Silence, save for movement across the clearing. Baron started towards it, coming to the giant corpse of a fairy tree until he saw the gryphon leaning against the trunk.

Her wings dusted the ground. They rustled with each gust of wind, limp as she surveyed the damage.

Baron lowered a gentle hand to her shoulder, almost forgetting the reason he was out there. "Haru," he breathed. "You shouldn't be out here. What if a human saw you?"

"Let them come," Haru said. "Then perhaps they'll end this pointless crusade." She turned her gaze to Baron and there was a tiredness beyond her years in her eyes. "I can't stop them, Baron. I'm… I'm not a fighter, not in the way needed for war." She dropped her gaze and brushed a hand over the trampled ground. "I can't win this."

Baron moved round and slowly knelt down beside her.

"There has to be a way," Haru continued. "That's what I keep trying to tell myself. No matter how bleak things look, there has to be a way. Right?" A little of her earlier strength returned to her shoulders. "There must always be hope."

When Baron didn't answer, Haru stopped tracing her fingers through the dusty earth, returning her attention to her companion. "Baron?"

"Haru… I'm so sorry…" He brought out the engraved dagger and the vial, lying the items down on the ground between them. He didn't meet Haru's gaze; he couldn't. But he heard the sharp intake of breath. "You know what these are, don't you?"

"What's going on?" In a flurry of wings and feathers, Haru scrambled to her feet. "Baron?"

He finally raised his gaze to the gryphon. The emotions playing across her face were those he had expected – dread, horror, confusion. The refusal to make sense of the situation before her. And hurt. Most of all, hurt.

"The King has ordered me to bring your wings back," he said. "If I don't, he'll continue to tear apart the forest until he finds you. Please, Haru; you and the other fairies have to leave, _now_. You have until sunset before I have to return." Still kneeling, he lowered his head in a bow. Somehow, it made things easier, but a lump still formed in his throat as he spoke. "It has been an honour knowing you."

A shadow fell over him. There was a sigh, and Haru knelt down before him, dropping her head to offer him a smile. The beginning of understanding was replacing the previous horror, falling into place with tired sadness. "And I, you. Thank you, for coming here to warn me. Come on; get up." She gently took his hands in hers and prompted him to his feet. "If I had to redo everything, I wouldn't change a thing." She paused, and then added, "Although not having my home threatened with destruction would be nice."

"I'm sorry, Haru; it's my doing that got you into this mess–"

"Could you… just _stop_ apologising? If anything, it's your King who's to blame here." She looked to the discarded dagger and potion. "But what's going to happen to you when you return empty-handed?"

"It doesn't matter. It's better than the alternative," Baron growled.

This time, it was Haru who was silent. She returned to the dagger, crouching down before it. She swept a hand over it, recoiling as, even from that distance, the iron irritated her. "You would risk that?" she asked. "For me?"

"Haru, I couldn't do what the King asked of me. Not for money or power or blackmail. I…" He reddened, struggling before he could continue. "It was my arrow that permanently injured your wing. I know it frustrates you that you can't fly as easily as you once did, so how could I even imagine grounding you for life?"

Haru fingered the sleeping vial perhaps, Baron thought, thinking back to the fate that had befallen her mother. "You're a good friend, Baron," she said. "Better than I could ever have asked for." She rose back to her feet, and the smile that she offered was bittersweet. "If this is to be our final meeting, then let's not end it here. Come on – let's go for a last flight."

She stepped back, transforming into her feline form as she went. She chuffed and lowered a wing to her companion.

"But... you need to get the other fairies and leave…"

Haru chuffed again and looked up to the late-morning sun, clearly indicating that they were a long way off sunset. She bumped her head against his side.

"All right. I'm coming." Baron clambered onto her back, winding his hands into her fur as she flexed her wings about him. "But be careful. You don't want to strain yourself."

Haru released a noise that sounded suspiciously like a chuckle, and then leapt onto the fallen tree. Ignoring Baron's fretting, she raced along the trunk. As she reached the heavier-branched head of the tree, she jumped up and bounded from branch to branch until she could leap into the boughs of the tree's living comrades. Baron tightened his grip as they ascended higher and higher, his breath escaping him once again at the gryphon's fluid, feline grace.

They broke through the upper canopy and suddenly the forest was spread before them in a glorious sea of green. Haru bounded between the topmost tips of the trees, barely landing before she took off again and onto the next one. And then she was flying – no, gliding – above the wood. Above the whole world.

Slowly, Baron loosened his white-knuckled grip on Haru's fur. As they soared through the sky, he released his grip entirely and hesitantly spread his arms out and into the wind. Laughter bubbled up through him; for that brief moment, it was all too easy to forget about the world below. Right now, it was only them and the infinite horizon.

Haru glanced back and chuffed happily at her companion. She lazily circled through the air and back towards the forest's edge. As they passed by the remaining healthy fairy trees, Haru plucked off a couple of berries from the branches, curling her claws around them while they descended down to the ground.

Baron leapt off as they neared to landing; he staggered a little as his legs readjusted to gravity, but the adrenaline still flowing in his veins kept him going. "Haru, that was… I mean, it was amazing!"

Haru chuckled as she reverted back to her human form. "I see the thrill of flying still hasn't worn off."

"Does it ever?"

Haru considered this. She took a seat on a tree root. "No," she said. "Not really." While Baron was still giddy from the flight, she dug her fingers through the berries – which were about the size of large apples – and tore through the fruits' thick skins. Her hand dropped to the vial tucked into her clothes.

"You'll be okay." The surety of Baron's voice caught Haru's attention. He was standing with his back to her, admiring the remaining forest about them. "I'll try to delay the King for as long as I'm able once I return. I'll try again to convince him against destroying the forest." He looked back to the gryphon, a rekindled spark in his eyes. "It's like you said before: There's always hope. There has to be a way to avoid this war."

"Maybe there is," Haru murmured. She held out one of the berries to her companion. "Come; let's sit and drink before we go." She grinned. "I bet you've never tasted one of these."

Baron sat down beside her and took the offering. "Actually, would you believe I have? My mother wanted to see whether they had any medicinal properties, and my father just found the trees themselves fascinating." He peered into the fruit; where Haru had opened it, he could see its juices swirling inside. "If I remember correctly, it was revoltingly sour."

"That's because a fairy didn't pick it," Haru said. "I think you'll find it's quite different this time around. Come on; try it."

"If you say so." Baron dubiously picked at the skin and nibbled at it. His face brightened with surprise as the fruit exploded in his mouth like strawberries. "It's… sweet."

Haru giggled. "You're doing it all wrong. You're meant to eat the skin last – watch this." She tipped the berry to her lips and drank the juices straight from the fruit, like someone trying to get the last dredges of soup from a bowl. When she brought it away, her lips were stained a bright pink. "See?"

Baron couldn't stop himself grinning. "Ah, going for the civilised way, I see."

Haru wrinkled her nose at him. "Just drink."

She watched him sip from the fruit, his eyes widening with surprise at the nectar-like liquid, and as he drained the fruit, her smile turned bittersweet. A sigh escaped her and she dropped her head onto his shoulder. "You're a good friend, Baron. I have been lucky to know you."

Baron thought back to the troubles that their friendship had stirred, and then pushed it away. Not now. Now wasn't the time to relive their grievances. He leant his cheek against Haru's head. They were going to go their separate ways, but – right here, right now – she was here. Beside him. She was real and alive and wonderful.

"Haru…?"

"Hm?"

"Just for the record, I… I…" He blushed as his voice caught in his throat. His brain had slowed and the words seemed to slur on his tongue. He took a quick breath and forced the confession before he could buckle. "I admire a young woman who speaks from the heart."

There was silence from Haru. She started to shake and Baron thought he had overstepped some line, that she was breaking down into tears. But then the laughter broke through and she dissolved into hysterical giggles. "That's it?" She shifted away from Baron, the mirth dancing merrily in her eyes. "That's how you decide to say it?"

Baron, if possible, reddened further. "I… I…"

Haru leant forward and kissed him before he could stammer any further. "I love you too, you idiot." She savoured his surprise and delight, burning that image into her mind before the sleeping potion took over and his eyes rolled shut. His body went limp against her and she gently propped him against the tree. "Which is why I have to do this."

ooOoo

Baron emerged from his slumber with half-remembered dreams of endless skies and tumbling flights still lingering in his mind. He blinked away the dreams with a wistful reluctance and registered that he was still in the forest. Long shadows fell across the ground. The evening was drawing in.

Sunset.

The King's ultimatum.

Baron jumped to his feet – or, rather, staggered, his legs still half-asleep.

"Haru!" His calls echoed through the forest, but there came no reply. Panic began to settle in. "Haru!" He searched the darkening wood for any sign of the gryphon, but the trees were silent. That was okay, he rationalised. If Haru had gone to escape with the other fairies before humans returned to destroy their home, then that was okay. That was what he had come here to do.

If Haru was safe, then that was all he needed to know.

"Ha…Haru…" Her name died on his lips as the fight left him. No, this was how it had to be. This was what had to happen if she was to survive. It had been his mistake to relax, to fall asleep and forget that. But now she was gone, and he was left alone in the silent forest.

He turned back to return to the town. A dread lined his inners at the thought of returning to his King, but there was confidence too. He had played his part. He had done the right thing. He knew that, his friends and family knew that; even, he suspected, the King knew that, deep, deep down. The rage the King bore was born from his guilt, even as it pushed him further down the wrong path.

Baron's foot slipped against something slick. He caught himself before he fell, and glanced down at the reddish-brown marks splattered on the forest floor. His gaze followed the stains until the stains pooled round a large package beside the path.

The package was covered with large leaves and tied with vines. Baron suddenly smelt the tang of iron in the air and nausea rose up through him. He knew what the marks were now. He understood why it pooled around the package.

He didn't want to.

"No, Haru… No, please no…"

He dropped down beside it and shakily peeled the topmost leaves away. They fell away to reveal Haru's wings.

"No… This wasn't meant to happen." A sob caught in his throat. He threw the leaves over the severed wings and backed away. He now spotted the empty vial and iron dagger Haru had left behind, the dagger's hilt wrapped in leaves and bark to protect her from the iron. "Why did you do this? This… I… I was trying to stop this from happening. I was trying to keep you safe. Why…?"

His foot caught on the wings and a loose leaf fell away. Red marred it, and Baron moved to kick it away until he realised the red took the form of letters. He picked up the leaf, and a little reassurance returned when he saw that it was berry juice, not blood, that Haru had chosen to leave a message with.

On the leaf were only two words.

" _A Gift._ "

He dropped it.

"You idiot, Haru," he whispered. "We could have found another way. How am I meant to make things right now?"

A breeze swept through the forest and ruffled the topmost leaves back, revealing once again the morbid interior. Baron dropped a hand against the wings, shakily stroking the soft feathers that now lay cold and lifeless.

An anger he was not familiar with began to take root. He tied the leaves back over the feathers and heaved the wings into his arms. He could have lived knowing Haru had fled, knowing that they would never meet again, but that she was safe. He could have faced the King's ignorance and wrath with the knowledge that Haru was beyond his reach.

He could not face this.

He stormed out of the forest and into the town, the guards hurriedly making way for him as he marched past with his bloodied package. The setting sun was disappearing over the horizon as the palace doors were opened for him. As the last rays of the day vanished, he slammed the wings down before the monarch.

"I hope you're happy."

Silence echoed through the hall as he stood before his King, Rage shook his form, his shoulders quivering as he stared up at him. To the sides, presumably brought out to see his return, were his friends and family, held back by guards. He heard, rather than saw, their horror. His clothes were bloodied, his arms even more so from carrying the wings, his eyes dark with wrath.

The King rose from his throne and stepped down to Baron. He peeled away the leaves to see the beautiful, strong, marred wings folded inside, and when he looked back to the young noble, there was a triumphant glow in his eyes. "See?" he asked. "Even you can choose this path."

"I chose no path," Baron growled.

"And yet, here you are. With wings in hand." The King's attention was drawn back to the wings. He trailed a hand along the lifeless feathers. "She's real then," he murmured, and Baron suspected he wasn't meant to hear that remark.

"Humbert, how could you?" Louise broke away from the guards. "I thought you couldn't… You wouldn't…"

"I didn't," he said. He looked to the King and made sure the man could see the truth in his eyes. "I went to the forest to warn the fairies to flee. I would never be able to do what you asked of me. But Haru – the gryphon you are so afraid of – took matters into her own hands. She severed the wings from her own back to try to stop this pointless war you're so eager to start." He dropped a hand against the wings. "You have what you asked for; now leave the forest in peace. Let this go."

"The… gryphon did this herself?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why do you think?" Baron demanded. And yet the same question plagued him. He pushed on with the only answer he could bring himself to accept. "Because she wants peace. Because she wants you to leave the forest alone. Because she's protecting her home."

And protecting him, he couldn't help but think. Of all the self-sacrificing, noble idiots…

"You have what you want," Baron said. "This is over."

"It is not."

Baron paused, half in the action of turning away. "What?" He rounded back on the King. "What did you say?"

"This isn't over."

"It is!" Baron motioned sharply down to the wings between them. "Haru tore off her own wings to stop this! Isn't that proof enough that she is no threat?! What more could you possibly want?"

"Proof?" the King echoed. "This is proof that the gryphon really is out there. I took her wings once, and yet, here they are again–"

"This isn't the same gryphon!" Baron roared. "This is her daughter – her daughter who, by any moral compass, would be understandable if she returned for revenge for what you did to her mother! But she's not like that! Despite what you've done, despite what you're threatening to do, she's still trying to prevent this war! Her mother eventually died of iron poisoning, from _your_ actions, but Haru still wants peace!"

For the first time, the King looked shaken by Baron's words. "Her… daughter?"

"Yes."

The King was silent, and Baron dared to believe he had broken through to the King.

"I see." He raised his gaze to the young noble, smiling thinly. "Then more gryphons may come. It is clear we shall never be safe until the forest is completely wiped from the face of the kingdom; the forest and all the foul creatures that roam it. Guards, secure him."

"What?" Baron moved to intercede, but was caught before he could take two steps. "But you have her wings! You said you wouldn't destroy the forest–"

"Things have changed. If we continue to let the forest grow beyond our control, there will be more gryphons to follow this one. More gryphons that may want revenge. And that, I cannot allow. We ready the soldiers at once."

"I won't allow you to do this."

The King turned back to Baron. "And how do you plan on stopping me? You are not a fighter, and neither is this gryphon you speak so highly of. With her wings gone, she won't be a threat." He smiled. "I must thank you for your notes on the fairies' weaknesses; that will make this so much easier."


	14. The Last Gryphon

The earth rumbled with the march of the soldiers. Even in the depths of the dungeons, their advance onto the forest could be felt. It seemed as if the whole world trembled with the oncoming war.

Toto knelt down to where Baron sat. After a moment's hesitation, he gave his friend an awkward pat on the shoulder. "It's not your fault, you know," he said. "You did everything you could back there. It's just that, sometimes, _everything_ isn't enough."

Baron didn't move or reply. With his back to the wall, he could feel the ground's faint trembling. When it came to the soldiers demolishing the forest, he would feel every shake and tremor.

"Leave him alone, birdbrain; he's obviously not in the mood to chat back."

"Well, excuse me for trying to be helpful, lardball."

"If you were trying to be helpful, you'd find a way to blow this joint, moron."

"Why don't you just eat our way out of here? That's the only talent you have, after all."

Elora groaned, rubbing tiredly at her forehead. "Boys, do you have to fight at a time like this?"

"Yes!"

Louise shook her head and wandered over to Baron. "Hey, Humbert?" After a moment of no reply, she sat down beside him on the bench. She leant against him, to again no response. "I hope you're not planning on giving up. I know things seem bleak, but there's still hope. We haven't lost, not yet. So please, don't give up."

"Would it be so bad if I did?" Baron murmured. He looked away from Louise, his shoulders slumped in defeat. "All this time, I've tried to do the right thing, but I've just made it worse. I thought I could find a way out of this without fighting, but look at where it's led us." He dropped his chin onto his arms, staring unseeingly at the cell door. "Even when Haru severed her wings, I had hoped that it would be enough to end this. But if even her sacrifice wasn't enough, then what chance do we have? The King has chosen his course. We can't stop him."

"Do you really believe that?"

"If I meddle again, who knows what further damage I might cause."

Louise released a word that rose all eyebrows in the cell. "Humbert, how can you be so… so conceited?"

"I… What?"

Louise rose to her feet, rage simmering in her eyes. "Do you really think that this is all your doing? Are you really so self-centred to think that everyone just blindly followed you down this path? We're all here because we _chose_ to help you and Haru! Because we saw another person in need! So don't diminish our decisions to bloat your own feelings of self-pitying guilt! You may have started down this path alone, but by all the stars in the sky, you are _not_ alone now!"

Baron opened his mouth several times, and only on the third try did any words make it out. "Louise… I…" He glanced around at his friends and family, at the smiles that had fallen into place at Louise's words. "Thank you."

Louise harrumphed. "Good. Now, we are going to work out a way to get out of here and stop this war. First question: Does anyone know how to break open a cell door?" Before anyone could answer, Louise added in Muta and Toto's direction, "And, I swear, if either one of you cracks a joke at the other's expense, you'll be spending a week in this cell when this is all over."

The two in question exchanged glances, evidently wondering whether the other was going to risk it.

"Actually… I do have an idea," Toto tentatively offered.

"If it involves Muta eating our way out of here, then you need to stop right now."

He sniggered, but added, "No, it's not that. Look, I've worked with doors before while helping my father, and I think that it could be possible to break the hinges if we levered it open."

"Levered it with what, birdbrain? It ain't like we've been left with a toolbox."

"There's the bench," Baron said. He stood, motioning back to the lone piece of carpentry in the cell. "Toto, if we slotted the end between the bars, would it work as a lever?"

"It has to be worth a try."

Muta dragged the bench over to the cell door and angled it between the bars, leaving it at a 45-degree angle to the floor. "Like that?"

"Yes. Now, if we push down on the far end, the hinges should break. It might take several of us, but–"

There was a crack as Muta leant onto the bench and the door gave way. He smirked at Toto's evident surprise. "And that's what happens if ya not all skin and bones, twiggy. Some of us actually have muscles."

Baron grabbed Toto's arm before another argument could ensue. "There may be guards down here, and if they heard the door break then we have no time to waste. Let's get out of here unless we want to be caught already. You can argue later."

"Fine by me. It might give the fatso enough time to invent some new insults."

"You're treading a dangerous line," Louise warned. She sidestepped the ruined door and lifted a torch from its bracket, using it to illuminate the passageway before them. Save for the flickering flame, there was no movement down the path before them. "I think the way's clear, folks. I wonder why the guards didn't hear that…?"

"David," and Elora's face scowled as the King's name passed her lips, "may well have pulled in all the force he could manage to face the fairy forest. Given his fear of revenge, it wouldn't surprise me. Humbert, how prepared are the fairies for attack?"

"They're not," Baron answered. "They might be able to scare off the occasional wandering human, but I don't think they're able to face the scale of a real war. Especially if the trees are destroyed."

"Then slowing the destruction of the forest will be our first priority." Despite her slight stature, Elora seemed to grow a little taller as she spoke. "Humbert, do you think you'll be able to find Haru? I have a feeling she'll be the key to ending this."

"I… I don't know. She'll have retreated into the forest, probably, to recover; that, or she'll be trying to stop the attack if she has the strength. I don't know how I could – wait. No, I know how to find her, but I'll need to detour home first."

"Will you need help?"

Baron shook his head. "I think it'll be best if only I went to look for Haru. The fairies there should trust me."

"Fine. Then the rest of us will go to the forest and see what we can do about the attack." Elora paused, and then brightened. "In fact, perhaps we should also stop by our home. I think I may have a few potions in my office that might come in handy."

Baron and Edmund exchanged glances. They knew that look.

"Mother… please don't do anything too drastic."

"Of course not." Elora's smile didn't help to reassure her family. "I'll just create a few distractions. It'll be easy."

ooOoo

Baron stood at the edge of the forest, lingering to watch as a thick fog rolled out over the open land between town and forest. And, by default, the army that was making preparations there. An uneasy smile crept onto his face; the army wasn't particularly great in number, but what it lacked in men, it made up for in its trebuchets – powerful catapults capable of firing fiery missiles. The fog – courtesy of his mother, he suspected – engulfed the army, throwing up confusion and chaos as suddenly the soldiers lost sight of even their neighbour, let alone the forest.

It wouldn't stop them, but it would delay. And that would have to do for now.

He turned his back on the town and brought out Haru's feather. He had called her gift ominous at the time. He wish he had been wrong.

"All right, feather. Time for your magic." He brought the gift up to his lips. "Take me to Haru."

The feather shimmered, and then rose up before him. It spun slowly in the air, like a leaf caught on a strand of spider web, and then froze. The seconds ticked by. Just as Baron was beginning to wonder if the magic had faded since it had been given, it shot off into the depths of the forest.

"Wait! Hold up!" Baron tripped over a tree root, only just catching himself to see the feather zoom to his right. "Slow down!" He raced after it, letting it lead him ever deeper into the forest, down ever-wilder paths. Here, the trees were older, their canopies thick and full. Here, little light reached as far as the forest floor, sinking the lower levels into an eerie twilight. Here, the forest was untamed by human hands.

And still the feather flew.

His foot misjudged the sloping, uneven ground, and he was sent sprawling down. He slammed into a bush, his arms catching on its prickly branches. For a moment, he couldn't move. It took several precious seconds to register that he was light-headed from lack of breath. His brain had been screaming at him to stop, to slow, and now the world seemed to spin around him.

Shuddering, he pushed himself up, but he didn't know why. He had lost track of the feather – it had raced on without him while he had fallen. His one chance to find Haru, to make things right, had gone.

He released a shuddering sigh and collapsed against the nearest tree. "And, to top it all, I'm now lost." He scoffed and raised his gaze to the leafy boughs above. "I'm useless."

A rustle from the branches gave him a grand total of three seconds' warning before a fairy fell out of it. The creature slammed through the air only inches from his face and landed at his feet.

"What the–?"

The fairy, still in its feline form, hissed at him and scurried away. A moment later, another leapt onto the forest floor and ran off in the direction of the town. Baron took another look at the tree he had stopped under and his mouth fell open in surprise.

He didn't know how he had missed it. It was huge, larger than any other tree he could see, its canopy filling the sky. He stepped away from it and realised he had seen the very same tree once before – when Haru had taken him up into the fairy trees.

On a stroke of inspiration – or desperation – he ran over to one of the smaller trees and heaved himself up onto its branches. Haru had to be up there. She had to have retreated to the fairy flowers to recover. This had to be his best chance.

He couldn't allow himself to think otherwise.

He clambered up another set of branches, following a similar path to the one Haru had taken, and tried not to think about the growing distance between him and the ground. As the tree's boughs grew narrower, he risked a leap onto a larger tree, nearly missing his mark. He grabbed a branch and held on for dear life, scrabbling for purchase.

"If Haru's not up here, and this turns out to be in vain…" he muttered, but he hauled himself clear of the drop and dragged himself up onto the next branch. It was slow going, but the continued silence from the edge of the forest drove him on. Sooner or later, the King would reclaim order over his soldiers and the preparations for the attack would continue.

Sooner or later, the forest would burn.

More fairies passed him by on his way up, perhaps fleeing, Baron thought. They could not be ignorant of the danger sitting on their doorstep.

Now the upper canopy was in reach, its leafy layer spread thickly above him. He grabbed at one of the under-branches and tried to weave an opening between the leaves. Sunlight streamed forth from the gap. He pulled himself through, his knees giving way as he staggered onto the canopy.

Something tickled at his palm; when he lifted it, he saw the feather he had lost. Its glow was gone now, but there was no mistaking it. He hesitantly picked it up and looked to where it had stopped. Before him rested one of the huge fairy flowers, its petals folded in on itself. He brushed a hand against it, and thought he could feel it moving beneath his fingers.

"You."

Baron flinched away from the flower. He looked back and saw the human form of Machida standing in the canopy.

Baron said the only thing he could think of.

"I'm sorry."

"I told you to make sure history didn't repeat itself," the fairy growled. "That was the one thing I asked of you. And you couldn't even do that."

"It wasn't my doing," Baron said. "Haru–"

"I know what she did. If I thought you were the one to sever her wings, you would not be standing. But now do you see why humans and fairies shouldn't mix? No good ever comes of it. Tragedy befalls, and it is always the fairies who pay the price."

"If I had known that she had been planning to…" Baron hesitated, his mind halting at the task that Haru had undertaken alone. "I would have stopped her. But by the time I realised, it was already too late. If I had known…"

Machida scoffed. "It makes no difference now. Your King has the wings of both gryphons. He has what he wanted, regardless of your intent."

A small fairy jumped onto the canopy, running along the upper branches to land on Machida's shoulder. It whispered something to him, and his face darkened.

"It looks like even Haru's wings aren't enough to satisfy your King," Machida snarled. "Even now, he amasses his people to march onto our forest. Well, let it be said that we fairies don't go without a fight." His form dissolved away, changing into his feline shape. "If your King wants war, then war he shall get."

"Machida…" The strength left Baron's voice as the fairy leapt off across the forest. He was left alone, save for the slumbering form of Haru inside the flower. He sat down against it, his energy gone. "After everything we tried, after everything you did," he murmured to the flower, "it still comes to this. It still comes to war. I'm sorry."

ooOoo

"Elora, it looks to me like your fog potion is wearing thin." Edmund leant out to watch as, little by little, the wind blew the mist away. "Quite literally. Do you have any more?"

"That's all there is, I'm afraid. Time to move onto our next stage." Elora pulled out small pouches filled with what appeared to be a yellow dust-like powder. Edmund eyed them suspiciously.

"That's… not what I think it is, is it?"

"Clubmoss spores," she said brightly. "And a few other spores; I… may have got a little carried away. Anyway, they're all mixed together to make a highly flammable concoction."

"There are times I'm very relieved you're on our side."

Muta snorted as he – with Toto and Louise – returned to the group, now clothed in stolen soldier uniforms. "Those little things? Please, they couldn't blow the moustache off my old man. How do we look?"

Toto shoved the helmet on his companion. "With that, much better. You should wear a helmet all the time. Just think of all the money you'll save on mirrors."

"Keep talking and the only mirror I break will be when I throw you into one."

Louise secured her own helmet, tightening the chinstrap to keep it from wobbling. "This really isn't the time." She took the pouches from Elora and tucked them away. "So all we need to do is stuff these into the joints of the trebuchets for now? Can't we just light them immediately?"

"Unadvisable, unless you want to lose a limb," Elora said. "No, just leave them in the joint. When the trebuchets are fired, at least some of the sparks from the fireball should set them off. Those weapons are the main threat against the forest, at least for now."

"Gotcha. Uh… there's not a chance that they'll go off without warning, is there?"

"Actually, he's right," Toto said. "With all your hot air, you could set the spores alight."

Muta gave Toto a non-too-light shove. "Stuff it. I was being serious."

"As long as you don't come into contact with fire, you'll be fine," Elora reassured them.

"Don't worry." Louise grabbed both men by the scruff of their collars. "I'll keep them under control. Come along, boys." She dragged them off in the direction of the amassed soldiers, where order was being reclaimed now the fog had dissipated. The three separated, each going for a different trebuchet.

"So what do you make of this?"

Louise straightened, almost jumping at the voice. She stuffed the pouch into a joint of the machine, and moved back. "What?"

"You know, all this fighting the forest malarkey." The other soldier gave a chuckle and shrugged. By their voice, the other soldier sounded like a woman about Louise's age, or a little older. "I mean, sure the forest is dangerous, but so is the ocean. Is the King going to rage war with the sea next?"

There was a pause, and Louise realised the soldier was expecting a reply. She gave a half-laugh. "If there were fairies in the ocean, maybe."

"Oh, right. The fairies." The soldier sounded disgruntled, as if she was making a face at the word. "The war against the fairies. If you ask me, this isn't so much a war as it is an extermination. Calling it a war makes it seem as if the fairies have a chance."

"It also makes them sound like pests," Louise said.

The soldier shrugged. "I guess so. Well, whatever it is, it's a waste of resources. But, you know, the King's orders are the King's orders. Not much we can do about that." She patted the trebuchet. "Just be careful around these beauties; as far as I'm concerned, these are more dangerous than any fairy out there."

"Thanks."

Somewhere towards the front of the army, a horn was sounded. Deliberate movement started up across the open land. The chaos from the unexpected fog had been cleared.

"Well, sounds like it's time to get going." The soldier snorted and added, "Join the army, they said. Excitement and adventure, they said. Travel the world, they said. Nothing was ever mentioned about burning down our own forests."

Before the army could even start to advance, the forest rustled.

Louise wanted to dismiss it as the wind, but the swaying of the branches was not that which a mere breeze could generate. She wasn't the only one who thought so either; all through the army, muttering was being passed about. Others too could see the shadows shifting between the leafy boughs, could almost hear the hisses of the creatures within.

The King stepped forward, singling himself out from the soldiers. A glass cage was brought up behind him; for a moment Louise thought it was the wings that had stood behind the throne all these years, but the feathers were too dark, too glossy. Too new.

A gasp caught in her throat.

"Fairies!" Her father's voice boomed across the open space between him and the forest. The rustling stopped. All eyes were on the human monarch. "We have come to reclaim the forest!"

A shadow jumped out of the trees, landing protectively before the forest boundary. New murmurings started up as the soldiers saw the large, black feline bared before them.

"I know what you come for!" Machida roared. His voice was hoarse, roughened by his feline form, and all the more monstrous for his fury. "You come to destroy and burn and murder! You come to steal what is ours and obliterate what you don't understand! You come to leave devastation in your wake!" The forest behind him darkened as yet more fairies joined the shadows. "You come to rage war!"

Unease crept through the army. The soldier who had been speaking to Louise earlier leant over to her. "No one said the fairies could speak," she whispered.

"Perhaps that's because no one's been listening," Louise said.

"You creatures threaten the safety of this kingdom!" the King shouted back. Silence fell over the army as they waited to hear their monarch's response. "You live and hide in the shadows of your forest, like the monsters you are! We left you in peace once, and another gryphon sprang up! Who knows what dangers you will bring if we continue you to run wild!"

"Dangers?" The fairy released a low, dark laugh that echoed up through him. "You bring an army to our doorstep and call us dangerous? Look in the mirror, humans," he called, and now his voice rose to cover all ears, "and judge for yourselves which side are the real monsters. But, if it's war you want…" Machida raised his head and roared into the sky.

Behind him, the trees swarmed with more feline fairies. They dropped down onto the ground and amassed around the largest fairy, their designated leader.

"You stole the wings from our gryphon," Machida growled, "and you dare to display them before us like a trophy? Those are not spoils of war, but a peace offering, and you hang them up like your enemies head upon a pike? We have stood by through many trials, but we will not stand by for this. No more, do you hear us? You will take no more!"

ooOoo

The forest almost seemed to shake with rage, quivering with the wrath of its occupants. Baron rose to his feet, but it was impossible to see anything through the forest canopy.

"And so it begins," he murmured.

The tree beneath him rustled again, but this time the source was from behind him. He turned in time to see the huge fairy flower open up its petals and Haru stumble out.

He moved forward, catching her arms before she could collapse. She froze at the contact, staring down at the familiar, human arms, and he couldn't exactly blame her. He had to be the last person in the kingdom she wanted to see right now. But then something gave way and she leant into his arms, her head buried into his chest.

As she shook, Baron's eyes were drawn to the angry red welts that scarred her back. The only remnants she retained of her once-beautiful wings. Gently, he drew his arms around her.

"You shouldn't have done that," he muttered. "We were going to find a way."

"Like what?" Haru whispered. "Leaving the forest? There are so few fairy forest left, Baron, and too far away. The fairies here would never make the journey. Anyway, this is our home. I… I couldn't let them destroy it."

"Then you should have told me that. You didn't need to do this."

"They're just wings," and Haru sounded like she wanted to believe that. "Humans survive without wings all the time, and so can I."

"I would have stopped you, if I had known what you were going to do."

"I know. That's why I had to trick you. But my wings are a small price to pay to protect this forest."

Baron froze. "Haru…"

"Tell me it was enough," she whispered. Her fingers curled into the front of Baron's shirt. Her shoulders shook and Baron felt her tears fall. "Tell me my wings were enough for your king."

Baron couldn't speak; his mind could only see the wings bared before the King in tattered, bloodied glory. His silence said more, however, than any words could.

"What more could he possibly want? What can he take from me that he hasn't already?"

"Your home."

Haru stilled, the shivers suddenly gone from her form. Slowly she loosened her hold and leant away from Baron, and now there was something new in her eyes. "He's not getting it."

"He's amassed an army to burn down the forest," Baron said. "He… He found my book, Haru. He knows about fairies' weaknesses, about your salt allergy, your burns to iron, even your dependence on the trees. I don't know what to do."

"Then I'll have to stop him."

Baron caught Haru's arm as she turned away. "Didn't you hear me? He has an army. He'll kill you."

Haru smiled. "He'll have to catch me first. Are you really going to try to talk me out of this, Baron? I thought you were done running."

"I am," he said, and he released her. "But you needed to know the risks first. You needed to be sure that this is your choice."

"It is." Grim determination twitched at her lips. "And, don't worry; I think I have a plan."

" _You think_?"

"Well, more of a theory. Or a work-in-progress." She glanced down at the canopy under her feet, and then back to her companion. "How did you get up here?"

"I can climb. Look, Haru–"

"Baron, do you trust me?"

"–I…" Whatever he had been about to say trailed off at Haru's question. A tired but firm smile rose to his lips. "I always have."

"Then trust me on this." She shifted into her feline form, which seemed so bare without her wings. She motioned for him to take a seat. "Whatever your king thinks, I'm not going to let this become a war. There must still be a chance for peace."

"Just… don't do anything as reckless as last time," Baron pleaded. "At least not alone."

Haru chuckled and stepped up to a gap in the branches. "I promise." With Baron secured, she leapt down onto the boughs below and sped across the forest. She bounded from branch to branch, her paws barely touching one before she was moving onto the next. The world was a blur about them, never pausing long enough to settle.

As they neared the edge of the forest, an explosion rocked the ground.

Haru skidded to a halt. "What was that?"

"I don't know, but I guess they've started."

Another boom cracked through the air, and Haru started to run again. They came to the forest border to see chaos at hand. Catapult-like machines stood broken and burning, while the soldiers tried to smother the flames.

"What are those?" Haru asked.

"Weapons," Baron said. Relief washed through him. "Sabotaged weapons." It had to be his family and friends; they had to have marked out the trebuchets as the biggest threat and taken them out. Now the remaining danger lay in the form of the soldiers themselves.

Haru jumped down to the forest floor and motioned for Baron to dismount. The forest boundary was marked by the hoards of fairies – mostly tiny, cat-sized fairies – who stood guard over their home. She singled out Machida, who stood before all others, and joined him.

"Machida."

The other fairy jumped at her voice. "Haru? What are you doing here? You're still too weak–"

"What are you doing?" she demanded.

"We couldn't wait for you to wake," he said. "The humans are going to destroy our home. You should have known better than to think trading your wings would secure peace, Haru. These humans are too greedy for that."

"I know, but I had to try. Machida, you must know we won't be able to win this battle; we're not made for war. Just look at your army."

"Every fairy here chose to defend their home. The least we can do is try."

"And I understand that – of course I do. This is my home too, but let me try something first." She smiled and shifted back to her human form. "There may still be a chance that the humans will listen."

"Don't you see them?" Machida hissed. "Don't you see how they're lined up and armed for battle? These humans will never listen!"

"Baron did," Haru said. "His parents, his friends, they all did."

"That… That was different."

"How will we know unless we try?" She straightened and turned her gaze to the army, which was still trying to regain order after the loss of their trebuchets. "It's time for them to see who their king is so afraid of."

Baron grabbed her wrist. "This?" he demanded. " _This_ is your plan?"

"Like I said, it's a work-in-progress. Please, you said you trusted me."

"I… I do. But you don't know the King. He's not going to listen to reason–"

"I have to try. Please, Baron." She offered him a tired, but hopeful smile. "I have one more trick up my sleeve to try before I let this bloodbath begin. One more time, let me try to end this peacefully."

Baron met Haru's gaze and saw the same stubborn streak he had often run into with Louise. He nodded and moved back. "Please, Haru; be careful."

She grinned. "I always am."

ooOoo

Chaos had befallen the army. Their organisation had given way when the trebuchets had blown up, forcing them to detour from their duties to deal with extinguishing the unexpected fires. While Louise was dragged into helping to dowse the very fire she'd started, she heard mutterings of the fairies. This was their doing, the whispers claimed. It had to be. How else would all the trebuchets spontaneously combust when they tried to fire them?

Her father was furious. Louise could hear him desperately trying to reclaim order, to quench the superstitious murmurings, but unease was worming its way through the ranks.

And then, from the fairies' side, someone stepped forward.

Silence fell over the army as the slight form moved out of the forest's shadow. Sunlight rippled across their form, shifting them from a mere silhouette into an undeniable, living, breathing person. A young woman, not particularly tall nor strong, now stood between forest and army. Her features were human, right down to the maple brown eyes and the short-shorn hair, and yet there was something wild about her.

"Your Majesty, I see you received my gift." Her voice wavered a little at the start, but it carried over the field. She bowed and, as she did so, the wings in their case began to beat against their glass confines. "But a fairy's gift is a powerful thing, Your Majesty; are you sure you can handle it?"

"That's the gryphon?" Louise heard someone mutter.

"But she's so… young…"

"Almost still a child."

"You!" The King's voice cut over the murmurings. But his next words were subdued; Louise almost missed them. "You're… the gryphon?"

"Surprise," Haru chuckled humourlessly. "What else did you expect?"

She started to breach the gap between her and the army, raising alarm from both sides. Louise saw someone almost dash out from the fairies' side – it looked suspiciously like Humbert – before the largest fairy cut him off.

"You see, when it gets to it, I'm just… me," Haru said. She continued to walk as if she couldn't see the soldiers massing around their monarch, or hear her wings rattling ever angrier in their cage. "Just another person. Just another fairy. What are you so afraid of?"

A nervous archer accidentally released an arrow. It flew wide and buried itself into the grass to Haru's left. She halted, now only metres away from the humans. "I gave you multiple chances for peace. I gave you the benefit of the doubt. I gave you my wings. And still you march upon my home?" A burst of anger ran through her. "Speak, or must you hide behind your subjects?!"

Louise shuffled her way through the soldiers, nearing her father until she could see what was going on. She stopped behind the display, in which Haru's wings were throwing themselves against the glass. She saw her father motion for the soldiers before him to step aside and approach the fairy, sword in hand.

"So you do come for revenge."

"No," Haru said. "This has never been about revenge."

"Then why are you here?"

Haru spread her hands out, gesturing to herself in a loose motion. "I wanted you to see what you fear. If you are going to burn down the homes of thousands over me, then you should see the cause of your terror." She smiled. "Isn't it time you stopped hiding from your guilt and faced me?"

"Maybe you're right." Louise barely caught her father's words, but she saw his stance shift. His grip on his sword tightened. "Maybe it is time I finally faced you. Maybe it's time I indeed ended this."

He swung his sword towards Haru, and the moments that followed were nothing but shattered images for Louise. She remembered Haru's horror, as she stumbled back too slowly, far too slowly. She remembered Baron's cry from the fairies' side, but even as he started to run, he would be too late. She remembered the deafening, frenzied battering of the wings, throwing themselves against the glass again and again until the sound filled Louise's being, replacing even her own heartbeat.

She remembered her hands scrabbling for the display's latch and throwing the glass doors open. She remembered the wings bursting free from their prison, and she remembered the moment that they passed her by. For a moment, just a moment, her whole world was a vortex of feathers and wind.

Then they continued on and Haru was engulfed by light. It radiated out from her in waves, slamming the King back, and then it was gone. The light faded and Haru was left, hovering off the ground. Her wings stretched out about her, slowly beating through the air with strokes that sent little whirlwinds dancing at her feet. Even Baron, running across the field to her, paused at the sight.

Haru raised a hand to her shoulder and tenderly ran it down to where her wing broke from her back. "My wings…" she murmured. "You're back."

A clatter from the ground caught her attention; she glanced down to where the King was blindly scrabbling for his fallen sword. She dropped down and carefully took the weapon by its wooden handle. At the sound, the King glanced up at her. He blinked, and Haru realised the man had been sent temporarily blind from the burst of light.

A strange silence settled over the allotted battlefield. It was more than just a lack of speech; it was as if the whole battlefield was holding its breath. She looked to the humans, only metres away. The soldiers had frozen, watching her with horror. She looked behind her, and saw Baron standing across the field.

She looked down to the king, who swung his head blindly from side to side. If she wanted, she could sever his head from his shoulders, and no one – not the soldiers, not Baron – would be able to stop her in time. That was what the battlefield was waiting for. The silence was almost hallowed.

Haru lowered the sword and knelt down, looking into the unseeing eyes of the monarch.

He blinked, and this time his eyes focused on the gryphon before him. At first he squinted, trying desperately to see the form before him, and then his eyes crinkled. "Naoko?" he whispered.

Nerves flooded through Haru, but at what, she wasn't sure.

"No. I'm her daughter."

The man's face fell, and reality seemed to crash back down onto him. The years of guilt crawled over him, shrinking his frame and dropping his gaze. "Just get it over with," he said. "Take your revenge. You have every right to after what I've done."

Haru eyed the sword at her feet, and part of her agreed. No, a lot of her agreed. The man before her was responsible for so much suffering, so much anger. It would be easy. She could make sure he never hurt anyone ever again. She could end it.

And yet, her hand stayed.

"Didn't you hear me earlier?" she murmured. "I'm not here for revenge."

"Why not?" the King demanded. "I've taken so much from you, so why spare me now?"

Haru heard Baron approach her, and a gentle smile flittered across her lips. "It's simple. Because I'm not a killer." Baron's hand softly curled around her shoulder and she drew strength from his support. "Why did you do it? I need to know. Why did you take my mother's wings?"

"I told myself it was for the best," the King murmured. He didn't meet her eyes, preferring instead to look down, away from the gryphon and away from the shadow of her wings. "If I took her wings, then people would believe she was dead. It was the… easiest way."

Haru lowered her head so she met the King's gaze. "You told my mother you loved her. Was that ever true?"

"I think so. But…"

"But you valued a kingship over her," Baron said, filling in the words the man could not say. A thought crossed his mind, just the barest whisper of how neatly Haru's age coincided with the loss of her mother's wings, and how the same eyes could have found their way onto the faces of a human and a fairy. The King had tricked Naoko into believing he loved her, Machida had told Baron, but now he wondered how far the deception had gone.

"I thought Naoko would survive without her wings," the King said. "I thought she'd understand. I went back to try to talk to her afterwards, but I couldn't find her. I didn't… I mean, I wasn't sure whether she was hiding or if she'd died. I thought you… you might be…"

"You thought I was her," Haru said.

"Coming to take revenge," he finished. "And who would blame you?"

"I would." Haru rose to her feet. Her hand slipped into Baron's and they stood side-by-side, the human and the gryphon. "I've seen enough misery and death; I won't be the cause of a single lost life. I'm not a killer."

"Please, understand… I didn't think I had a choice at the time–"

"You always had a choice. You chose a kingdom over another's trust and the guilt that haunted you was more of a monster than I ever will be. You created your own demons and no one can save you from that." She turned away, looking to the humans that watched, seeing curious eyes and cautious faces. She stepped forward, her wings rising around her.

"This war is over!" she called, and her voice echoed across the field. "We fairies do not look for conflict nor rivalries; we only want to protect our home. So let it be known that this forest is protected! Your king has been spared, despite the harm he has brought to us. So this fight – this battle, this war – is over!"

The King watched as his army shifted. Without any direct or immediate change, they altered. The aggression left them as they surveyed the human and the gryphon, standing before them. The human who was familiar with so many, and the gryphon who seemed so human in her words. A whole generation that had been taught to fear the very idea of gryphons now saw one in the flesh, and it was not the creature of nightmare that the stories had told.

Instead, what they saw was a young, tired, fierce woman, barely out of adolescence and striving to protect her home.

"No…" The King fumbled for his discarded sword, mad with a guilt that now twisted his mind. "It can't end like this… I won't let it. I'm the righteous one here!"

Haru heard the sword descend, saw the glimmer of the iron blade flash, but instead of the burn of flesh being severed, she felt a pair of hands gently shove her away. The world tumbled about her, and for a moment it was almost peaceful.

And then she hit the ground and uproar broke loose.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I may have shamelessly used the prison-break scene from Pirates of the Caribbean because I couldn't think of any other way to move the plot along without either awkward deviation from the story, or a deux ex machina . So if it looked familiar, that's probably why.
> 
> Last chapter next week! Stay tuned!
> 
> Cat.


	15. The Human and the Gryphon

Haru first became aware that something was wrong when Muta and Toto ran out from the army to tackle the King behind her. Her mind didn't want to catch up with the world, for she knew that when she did her heart would break. She could feel it racing, her head aching with a sorrow she didn't want to understand.

Her left wing was arched about her, its tips stained red. She watched the blood drip from the feathers – _not her blood_ , her mind chanted, _not her blood_ – and tears swelled up in her eyes.

"No…"

Her hearing slammed back into place and now she could hear the cries for help, the shouts about her, the pleas for _him_ to hang on. She rose to her feet and forced herself to turn to the source of the heartache.

Around Baron knelt his parents and Louise. Toto and Muta held back their monarch, but they too had front-row seats to the outcome. Elora was tearing through her bag with feverish hopelessness that something would help, a constant stream of pleas for him to stay with them pouring from her lips.

Hollowly, Haru dropped down to the side of her friend. The King's sword had gone through him, piercing him through from back to chest. With every shuddering breath, the wound grew bloodier.

And yet, he smiled when he saw her.

"It looks like," he wheezed, "you were right after all. My heart is going to be the death of me."

"You're not going to die," Haru ordered.

"Really?" and he chuckled even as his eyes began to struggle to focus. "Because it sure feels like it. This was fun, though. Well," he amended, "not the dying part. But… you and me. That was good."

"We were fantastic," Haru said. "But it's not over, not yet."

Baron reached up a hand and wiped away the tears that poured down her cheeks. "Would it be so bad if it was?"

"Yes," Haru sobbed. "Because then I'll be left alone again."

"But you're not alone. Look at all the friends you've made."

"That's not fair, and you know it."

He offered her a rueful smile. "I know, and I'm sorry. But you'll be okay." His hand slipped away from Haru's cheek. "You're tough."

Haru caught his hand before it could fall away. "No," she whispered. "It's not going to end like this." Discarding the alarms of the humans around her, she stepped away and shifted into her feline form. She hoisted Baron onto her back, and now the alarm turned to warnings – he was too weak, he was losing blood, he couldn't be moved – but he was set for death anyway unless something was done. She leapt past the humans and went running for the forest.

Her wings flapped around her, almost, but not quite, lifting her off the ground.

"Come on," she muttered. "Come on; be strong enough for just this, please…"

Her wings beat faster and her feet left the earth behind. She rose up into the air and soared towards and over the trees. She could feel Baron's blood seeping into her fur, his grip weakening with every second she took. Words were tumbling from her lips, begging for this to be enough, begging for him to hang on for just a little longer. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, but instead of giving her strength, it only made her shake. The world was blurred by a sheen of tears.

She dropped down onto the canopy, landing straight into the open blossom of a fairy flower. She carefully lowered Baron onto it and returned back to her human shape. He was so still now. His skin was cold to the touch, his lips barely moving as shallow breaths flickered past.

"Please, please work," she whispered. She looked up to the petals that lay, unmoving around her. "Why won't you heal him?"

"The flowers only work for fairies." Machida stepped up to the canopy, his feline form melting away to reveal his human as he spoke. "You know that, Haru."

"He's dying, Machida, and it's all my fault. This is his last chance."

"The flowers won't release their magic for humans. However much you wish it, you cannot change that." He glanced over to the nearly lifeless human, and he added, almost softly, "I never imagined he would do something like that. Not for a fairy."

"Then you were wrong. Please, help me find a way to heal him."

"There is no way, Haru. Sometimes there are no last-minute miracles to be found."

"There has to be. There's always hope," she said, clinging to the words she'd spoken so many times. She brushed a hand over the wound. There was so much blood. Too much blood. All this blood and still the flower would not heal him.

An idea began to settle, an idea that she almost discarded but she had so few ideas right now. Before it could fully take form, she was diving into it. There was nothing else to lose at this point. She ignored Machida's hiss of horror as she grabbed the sword's handle and slid it free from Baron. She nicked herself with the edge of the blade. She tossed the sword out of the flower even as the skin around the cut blistered. She raised her arm over Baron's chest and watched as her own blood trickled down onto the open wound.

The flower creaked around them, and then began to fold its petals over them. Haru curled a wing over the dying human and allowed the magic of the blossom to lull her to sleep.

This had to work.

"Please don't leave me."

ooOoo

Louise stepped out of the palace dungeons to where her friends waited. She shook her head. "He's refusing to leave his cell. I think… I think his guilt has finally broken him. I… I don't know what to do."

Muta awkwardly patted her shoulder. "Hey, it ain't your fault."

"Although I never imagined I would say this, he's right," Toto said. "This isn't your doing, Louise."

"I know that, but… even after everything he's done, he's still my father. I still… I still feel… responsible for this. For him." She turned away from the dark staircase leading down to the dungeon. "There should be something I can do."

"There isn't. What your father needs isn't anything you can give," Toto said. "He needs to forgive himself before he can start to reclaim his senses. I think it was that anger that drove him on all this time."

"Your Highness?" A guard bowed to the young princess. "The von Gikkingens have arrived. They're waiting in the Entrance Hall."

"Oh. I'm coming." Louise picked up her skirts and went hurrying back to the main palace. Toto and Muta watched the princess dash across the courtyard.

"I bet I can beat you to the Entrance Hall," Muta offered.

"You're on."

Louise ran up to the palace doors, the guards barely opening them in time before she passed them. At the base of the throne stood Elora von Gikkingen and Edmund von Gikkingen; Elora still in her herbalist apron, and Edmund with patches of ink decorating his sleeve.

And, to the side of them stood Humbert and Haru.

Louise threw her arms around him, dragging him into a merciless hug. He stumbled, skittering for support on the crutches, but she could feel him chuckling. He was warm and solid and, most of all, _alive_. She glanced over his shoulder to see the gryphon standing back. Louise grinned at her through the tears. She mouthed, "Thank you."

Baron chuckled again. "It's good to see you too, Louise, but could you loosen your hold? I fear I'm still somewhat delicate."

"Sorry." Louise released him, stepping back to look at her friend. He was pale and weakness still trembled through his limbs, but his eyes were bright.

"Geez, Louise; try not to suffocate the guy. He's already died once in the last week." Muta ambled up to Baron and patted him on the shoulder – perhaps a little harder than necessary. "Don't scare us like that again, you idiot."

Baron smiled. "I'll try not to."

"It's good to see you up and about," Toto said, joining them. "And, by the way, fatso – I won."

"What? I kicked your butt back there!"

"It was the first one to the Entrance Hall, not to Baron."

"In both cases, Louise was the winner," Haru pointed out. "She was here before either of you."

Louise grinned. "Thank you. Glad to see someone noticed."

"Louise," Baron said, "some of the guards on the way here mentioned something about a coronation being organised. What's happened?"

Her mirth died away at the reminder. "My father has abdicated. To be honest, in the state he is, I think most people are relieved to hear it. He's in no fit condition to rule anywhere right now."

"So we'd better start calling you 'Your Majesty', huh?" Muta laughed.

Louise nudged him – hard. "It'll always be just Louise to you lot." Her gaze turned to Haru, standing beside Baron which was still a little protective. Louise bowed her head to the gryphon. "Haru, I'm sorry for what my father did. If there's anything I will be able to do with my new power, please, don't hesitate to ask."

"All I want is peace," Haru said. She paused, and added with a smile, "And your friendship."

Louise smiled back. "I think I can manage that. But… while I was talking to my father, he mentioned some… strange things. About you. And about your mother. Things that made me wonder… I mean…" and here she looked away as if unsure how to proceed. "Haru, who is your father?"

"I think you've worked it out."

Louise sighed and looked over to the gryphon, a laugh dancing on her tongue. "You know, I've always wanted a sister."

Muta leant over to Baron. "What's going on?"

"I'll explain later."

ooOoo

In the heart of the forest, a couple sat among the trees, watching as the sun slipped further over the horizon. The sky above them was streaked with purples and pinks, a pastel landscape of colour. As Baron leant against Haru, his fingers idly traced his chest. The scars could still be felt, even through his shirt.

Haru noticed the movement and gently nudged him, warning him against irritating the wound. "I'm sorry the flowers couldn't heal it completely."

"Don't be," he said. "I'm just happy to be alive. How did you know the blood would work?"

"I didn't. But I hoped that, if it was a gift, the flower might register you as a fairy."

"Did you know that your wings would be able to return to you?"

Haru gave a short laugh. "I was hoping so. Fairy gifts can be a little… unpredictable, even to fairies." Her gaze flickered to her companion, her mind replaying the moments when she had been so sure he was going to die. Even now, he found it hard to stretch and sudden movements were a painful affair. She wasn't sure quite what consequences the few drops of fairy blood circling in his veins would carry, but a light rash had broken out across his hand after coming into contact with an iron door handle, and he seemed wearier when away from the forest.

"That's a lot of hope," Baron remarked.

Haru discarded her worries to register Baron's comment. "I suppose so," she said. "But everything that matters comes with a risk."

He turned his gaze to her. "That's true."

Haru blushed and looked up to the sky. "Just for the record, I admire a young man who speaks from the heart."

Baron snorted. "I love you too."

ooOoo

_Once upon a time, the land was filled with fairies. All kinds of fairies. Fairies that pilfered freshly-baked bread, and fairies that tangled hair in the night, and even fairies that stole socks – but only the left ones. There were boggarts and pixies, brownies and elves, and they all resided in the forest that bordered the human kingdom. And the humans tolerated their fey neighbours, as well as they could, for the creatures were troublesome and mischievous and were a constant danger to the humans._

_But one day, a young baron shot down a fairy more dangerous than the others. She was a gryphon – a rare, winged fairy whose presence scared the humans._

_Driven by the stories of monsters from his youth, the human set out to slay the gryphon and bring honour to his family. But, against his own better judgement and the lessons of his childhood, he spared the creature and, in time, a tentative friendship grew between them._

_But when the king heard of the gryphon, his heart was seized with terror, and he ordered the young baron to bring the creature's wings to him. The young baron refused, and the king threatened to destroy the whole forest in his pursuit for the lone fairy._

_When the gryphon heard of this, she severed her own wings to appeal for peace, but the king's fear only intensified upon seeing them. In his guilt for his actions twenty years previous, he grew mad and ordered for the forest to be destroyed regardless._

_Together, with the help of their friends, both human and fairy, the gryphon and the young baron faced the king. With their combined strength, they halted the war, but not without cost. For, in defending the gryphon, the young baron suffered a fatal blow. The gryphon brought him to the fairy flowers and, after sharing her blood with him, managed to bring him back from the brink of death._

_A new era of peace settled over between the humans and the fairies, led by their new queen, and breached by the friendship sown between the young baron and the gryphon._

_And so the story goes on._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Short finale! (I know. I'm sorry. It also frustrates me how Avatar-ish (James Cameron's) this ending is, but I hope it felt natural.)
> 
> Like many people guessed, this was indeed originally based on How To Train Your Dragon (Dreamworks) and Maleficent (Disney). I adore HTTYD, and I just liked the fairy/wings plot of Maleficent. The spelling of 'gryphon' was taken from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland for.... funsies? (I don't know. I just liked the spelling.)
> 
> I'm not sure what story will follow, although I am hoping to get The Bureau Files: Series 4 finished for this autumn. I have a couple of other stories in the works (the Tangled AU and The Willow Girl) which will likely be completed at some point, albeit not in the near future.
> 
> God bless,  
> Cat.


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